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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23601436">Stay (Just a Minute)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfetched/pseuds/farfetched'>farfetched</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Haikyuu Soulmark AU [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Coming Out, F/M, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Multiple Soulmates, Platonic Soulmates, Post-Canon, Romantic Soulmates, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, non-soulmate relationship, soulmates aren't necessarily romantic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:01:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>30,313</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23601436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfetched/pseuds/farfetched</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>People are born with soulmarks. One, two, or more; they can denote a romantic bond, a platonic one, something in between, or something else entirely. But almost guaranteed - if someone has a life partner, they're soulmates. </p><p>Kunimi Akira is one of the few without marks. And if his heart would actually get that message and stop latching onto people, his life would be so much easier. Kindaichi is the first, but he rides that wave out; university, however, puts him into the proximity of Shirabu, and that's a whole different story.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kindaichi Yuutarou/Kunimi Akira, Kindaichi Yuutarou/Original Female Character(s), Kunimi Akira/Shirabu Kenjirou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Haikyuu Soulmark AU [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/739797</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>HQ Rarepair Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Stay (Just a Minute)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic does include occasional references to drinking, and a few of the characters get drunk off-screen.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's not that Kindaichi rushes away from his house. Far from it; he spends enough time there that he's got a stash of clothes – just in case his mum is working late and he ends up staying on a futon in Akira's room. </p><p>It’s just that, Akira thinks, if he stayed a mere minute more, he'd hear something important. </p><p>It’s not even possible – Akira always waits until he's gone to mutter it under his breath. But it makes him feel like he has said it, even if Kindaichi had no hope of hearing him. </p><p>He's said it a thousand times without words. But Kindaichi can't hear him; never does. Never will, and Akira counts it as practice to when he might actually be able to say it. </p><p>He says it in the way he lets Kindaichi sit and be so much closer to him than anyone else. He says it in the way that Kindaichi is the only one who can hug him at the end of a game, win or loss. </p><p>He says it in the way he lets Kindaichi say anything and everything to him, rarely tells him to shut up. </p><p>He thinks if he had one more minute, a few more seconds, perhaps he'd gather the courage. If Kindaichi slowed his pace down, to match his own, maybe he'd still be around to hear it. </p><p>But Akira’s not actually sure he wants Kindaichi to hear. </p><p>It means change, ultimately; change is tiring and unknown.  Akira prefers what he knows; likes to order the same thing off the menu so he can avoid being disappointed, likes to go the same way to school and have the same routine, leaving him with as little need to interact with the outside world as possible. </p><p>Kindaichi hearing… It would probably mean the end of many of his routines. </p><p>The way they meet at the same place each morning, Kindaichi always there before him, hopping from foot to foot as he waits, impatient but always still there waiting, even when Akira is late. The way he urges them to go faster, because they’ll miss morning practice, for some reason Kindaichi’s favourite time of day. Sometimes, if Akira is still so sleepy he really can’t be bothered to run, despite the thought of yelling from Mizoguchi, Kindaichi will grab his wrist and drag him at a faster pace, eager to set up and get started. </p><p>It always feels like it burns through his school jacket, through his coat to his skin. </p><p>It’s not really the exercise that makes him out of breath when they arrive. Kindaichi will tease him that he needs to get fitter, and Akira almost wants to point out that it doesn’t happen at any other time, not for that level of exertion. He might be lazy and cut corners, but he’s not that bad. Yeah, Kindaichi will always beat him in endurance, but that’s mostly because Akira doesn’t care enough about it. He likes winning, but he does not care about winning needless things, and the team jogging exercises absolutely do not need to be won. He’ll end up back at school, no better, no worse; if he goes faster, people will look at him and expect things, and he’ll be all disgusting. He can let Kindaichi lead – or try, at least, Iwaizumi is always right at the front – and loiter at the back. At the back, nobody yells at him, it’s quiet, and sometimes, he can even get away with stopping for a bit to catch his breath and look out over the fields. </p><p>Besides, if he tried to win against Iwaizumi, he’d <i>die</i>. He’ll leave the pointless competitions to Kyoutani and the rest of the team. </p><p>So it’s not really the exercise. But Kindaichi will forget about it like he always does, flapping to Yahaba or Watari about something he’d seen on TV last night, knowing that Akira could never be bothered to watch them properly, never enough to talk about them; he usually sits in the living room, his older sisters watching them adamantly, and does his homework. Tomo calls him a nerd and ruffles his hair, Sakaki chides her for it while grinning. He scowls. He doesn’t have the energy for detention or the bother about being humiliated in class about it. With volleyball practice, and nearly falling asleep in lessons, he has to work behind the scenes to ensure that no teacher can yell at him. </p><p>So he catches his breath while Kindaichi isn’t looking, gets changed, and says it in the way he doesn’t shrug Kindaichi’s arm off his shoulder. </p><p>Kindaichi doesn’t hear. </p><p>Kindaichi never does.</p>
<hr/><p>He doesn’t get any better at saying it. He says it in the same way he always has done, silent things he will do for Kindaichi only, the way Kindaichi captures his attention better than anyone else, and Akira will turn to listen to him, will go to him. </p><p>He wonders, sometimes, what it would feel like for Kindaichi to kiss him. </p><p>Would it be as energetic as he seems at all other times? Would he sweep Akira along with him like he does in everything else? Or would he slow down and enjoy it? </p><p>It’s a pointless exercise, Akira knows, because he’s never going to be able to say it. It’s never going to happen.</p><p>Kindaichi managed to get himself a girlfriend. </p><p>He’d found a match to one of the marks on his skin, and enthused about it to Akira later. It’s one of the only times Akira has to turn away, has to stop listening, because he can’t stay impassive at that. </p><p>So Kindaichi excused himself more and more to spend time with <i>her</i>, and she must have relented and agreed to go out – Akira hadn’t really listened to the extended chatter in the locker room about this incident, facing his locker the entire time and doing his best not to scowl. </p><p>It’s the one thing he will discuss with absolutely no one. Kindaichi might know, he might not; after Akira gave him a poisonous look when he’d asked at Kitagawa Daiichi, he’d not asked again, and rightly so. </p><p>Akira is not <i>upset</i> about it. He doesn’t <i>care</i>. </p><p>He’s gotten smarter since then. If anyone asks if he matches them, he just tells them he’s linked to his mum, which could almost, almost be true if she hadn’t walked out on them all, and he hadn’t really missed her since. His dad’s new wife is better than she ever sounded, and the stories his sisters tell him inform him that he’s probably lucky his only memory of her is her waving cordially as she exited his bedroom, and shortly after, his life. </p><p>He doesn’t have any. </p><p>He’s free, really. His sisters know, and his dad. His step-mum found out from them no doubt, and they don’t pity him for it – they’ve gotten past that, thank god – but he’s made the mistake before. There’s a reason ‘pitiful’ is his most hated word, and it’s because people have talked about him like that. It’s not pitiful. So what? He won’t be the only one, and it’s not like people are only friends with their soulmates. </p><p>It’s just, quite often, they don’t date anyone else who isn’t linked on their skin. </p><p>He’d say that doesn’t upset him, but the fact that Kindaichi has hurtled into a relationship just because he happened to find that Toé, the first year, matches him, does upset Akira. It upsets him to a point of anger nearly showing on his face, and having to turn away if he sees them on campus. </p><p>To distract himself, he focuses on everything else possible. He doesn’t really have any other friends, but he manages. Kindaichi is still a friend, and will always be that way – he’d like to hope, anyway. Akira knows he won’t be able to say it, and a large part of him is glad. The more he thinks about it, he thinks saying it would have ruined it. He thinks maybe it’s his heart latching onto the closest non-family person he has to him, and so he ignores it.</p>
<hr/><p>By the time graduation rolls around, Akira looks at Kindaichi and realises that he no longer makes his heart race like he had done. No longer imagines kissing him, which is just as well, because Toé is still in the picture and Kindaichi is morose about leaving his precious Makoto all alone in Aoba Johsai (ignoring the fact that she’s actually pretty popular and has lots of friends, aside from the smile she saves for Kindaichi himself). </p><p>She rolls her eyes, kisses him, and tells him he can wait a year until she graduates too. He blubbers about missing her (it’s so odd, he’s more emotional than she ever is), and she turns to roll her eyes at Akira. </p><p>Akira, who no longer hates her. The ebbing of his crush on Kindaichi came with the realisation that she wasn’t actually that bad at all, and it’s taken him over a year, but he can finally say he’s happy for them both. Toé will kick Kindaichi into shape when he needs it, and calm him down when he needs it, but she doesn’t butt in too much. She comes to all their volleyball matches if she can, but she’s on the soccer team and has her own practices to go to; she also has a snarky wit that Akira can get on with. Kindaichi will pander to her, but not suffocatingly so (although by the sounds of it, that had taken a while to settle in to), and clearly adores her. </p><p>Akira, who is glad he’s gotten over it, because he’s realised that Kindaichi is possibly the straightest thing alive. </p><p>He actually just doesn’t seem to get it. </p><p>It had been a plot on one of the television dramas he so frequently watched, several months into the relationship. Two male characters had been getting close, apparently – Akira had heard most of it from his sisters, weirdly excited about the whole thing and going on about social justice and such (but then, Tomo was getting very into that kind of thing, and Akira wishes he could forget some of the noises he’d heard when her decidedly female friend was around). Kindaichi had apparently been so shocked when they’d kissed that he’d not spoken for several minutes. It hadn’t shut him up in school about it though; Akira had to wonder if he was actually blind, because Akira saw it all the time, how did he <i>not</i> see. </p><p>Yahaba had spluttered wildly when he’d talked about it in the locker room. Watari had snorted; Kyoutani had actually growled, as he remembers. Many of the first years either claimed they weren’t gay (<i>no way am I hell no that’s-</i> and got a vicious glare from Yahaba) or claimed to know nothing about it. The locker room had been weirdly quiet after that, Akira could hear his heartbeat a little too well, and courtesy of their shockingly bad sex education, he was tasked with the downright awkward job of informing Kindaichi about the existence of people-who-weren’t-straight. </p><p>It was extremely awkward telling him without telling him he was possibly one of those people. And he’d still been crushing on Kindaichi at that stage – thankfully the nature of the topic did cover up the exact reason why he was blushing so much. </p><p>Kindaichi teased him about it, Akira shot back that he was ignorant and it was a pain, and did not admit that Kindaichi’s growing easy stance on the whole thing calmed him down somewhat. </p><p>Still, he never says it, not in words. As Kindaichi’s relationship wears on and their friendship settles into a new equilibrium, he says it less with actions, too, until he isn’t saying it at all, and there are no words, silent or otherwise, in the way they bump shoulders at graduation.</p>
<hr/><p>They go to separate universities. It’s not a surprise; Kindaichi (and Toé) wanted to pursue sports, and if not be an active competitor then be in the background. Akira cannot be bothered. He’s had his fill of volleyball, decided that while he likes it and might allow himself to be dragged to a game or two, he doesn’t want to keep going with the ridiculous competitiveness at university. Besides, he’s studying engineering. He’ll need all the time he can get. </p><p>He goes to watch the university team’s games though, when he can. He can’t deny that there’s something weirdly calming about the shouting and the noise, and it reminds him of high school and Kindaichi, so much easier from hindsight, drowned as he is in mathematics and Matlab and matrices and geometry and new people. </p><p>He enjoys it right up until, half-way through the second set of the third game he goes to watch, against Oikawa’s university – and yes, he’d carefully ignored the very loud, very irritating ‘<i>Kunimi-chaaaaan~!</i>’ that had gone his way – he realises that the setter Oikawa has been subtly not-subtly glaring at so far is one of the guys from Shiratorizawa. </p><p>Akira spends the rest of the set trying to place him. Oikawa’s university, from Nagoya, wins that set, levelling the score. </p><p>By the time it gets to the fifth set, and Oikawa is pulling out his best manoeuvres to beat at least one (or maybe two, one of the wing spikers looks faintly familiar) alumni of Shiratorizawa, Akira still hasn’t worked out who he is, aside from dark blonde. He can’t remember his name or number, and it hardly matters, he thinks, sloping off after the game (only to be caught by Oikawa somehow, and dragged out for a long, tiring celebratory dinner which Akira spends trying to leave) and ending up wishing he didn’t now know the taste of sake (because it’s awful). He thinks no more about it. </p><p>Until he starts seeing the other guy <i>everywhere</i>. Suddenly, he’s in his lectures, he’s in the library. He’s walking across campus, large group of friends around him, and Akira feels faintly jealous because he does not have an interesting life (that would be tiring though). He will go back and maybe cook but probably order take out or have instant ramen, or the instant phở he’s gotten into recently. Not as good as the fresh stuff, but it’ll do in a pinch. </p><p>He works it out in, possibly, the worst place he could have done. In a nightclub. Not only that, one that specifically caters for ‘non-straight’ people. </p><p>Akira dislikes the words, the terminology. Like how he’s always termed ‘unmarked’ or ‘unlinked’. He also regrets possibly maybe informing one of his flatmates about his former crush on his teammate. Said roommate (usually a fairly chilled out individual) suddenly decided that Akira needed to get over him (ignoring the protests that he was, quickly given up because he wasn’t getting anywhere with it) and promptly took him out to a club. </p><p>Akira doesn’t like clubbing at the best of times. He supposes some people would class him as pretty, and seemingly because he has no interest in them, the girls seemed to flock to him and flirt with him, making him pretty damn uncomfortable. Also, it’s loud, late, and he likes sleep more than music with a physical presence. </p><p>Now though, he not only gets girls looking him up and down, but guys as well. A few offer to buy him a drink, Matsuka has sidled off somewhere  and Akira is feeling rather isolated – then he sees the blond guy and for some reason, pulls a lot of information from absolutely nowhere to piece that he is looking at Shirabu, setter of Shiratorizawa whom Akira had played some of a match in Interhigh in his first year, a whole game in second year in the Spring Preliminaries (they’d beaten them then, and Oikawa had phoned Watari up crying (only to lose to Karasuno in the final)) and not seen since. </p><p>As though he senses Akira’s gaze, Shirabu’s eyes coast over the top of the crowd to him, leaning against a wall and wondering how long it is worth staying here for the entrance fee, and he blinks at Akira. </p><p>Akira doesn’t see any recognition. </p><p>And then he does, and Akira decides he is really best getting out of there. He hopes Shirabu will not think about how they saw each other in an ‘alternative’ nightclub, what that means (Matsuka isn’t gay, or anything, or at least he proclaims not to be) and Akira heads to the exit as fast as he can weave through the writhing mass of sweaty dancing bodies (never again). </p><p>Shirabu is faster, somehow. </p><p>Grabbing Akira’s arm, he yells something he can’t catch over the music; he leans closer, so close his breath is hot against Akira’s ear and he squirms. </p><p>“I recognise you!” He yells, uncomfortably loud and uncomfortably close. </p><p><i>Well, duh</i>, Akira thinks sardonically. Sarcasm doesn’t work at 80 decibels though, and he can’t be bothered to shout, it’s hot and sticky and close in here, and he wants out. He doesn’t want Shirabu following him, but he supposes the ambiguity of pointing out the door implied that he didn’t mind; Shirabu tugs him into the adjacent smoker’s area, and lets him go. Akira is glad. His hand was hot on his skin. </p><p>“I recognise you. You know who I am, don’t you?”<br/>
Although it sounds arrogant, he doesn’t say it to mean that, or his tone implies that anyway. Akira looks longingly off into the night, cool breeze, loneliness and blessed quiet to be sought out there, away from here, and he decides he’s going as soon as he can get away from Shirabu. Let Matsuka think he’s a wuss. Akira doesn’t care. </p><p>“Did you go to Shiratorizawa? In Miyagi?” Shirabu asks, insistent. He then laughs at the way Akira’s lip curls in distaste. “Guessing not, then. I swear I remember you from somewhere. Volleyball? Fukurodani?” He lists off several schools that must have made it to Nationals that Shiratorizawa had played. Eventually: “Aoba Johsai?” </p><p>Akira twitches, and Shirabu smiles, surprisingly pretty. Akira thinks he should not have let Matsuka talk him into that beer, nor should he have accepted a cocktail off the pretty foreign guy he’d met then managed to successfully lose. He ought not to have had any of it. He has a sweet tooth, and the guy had offered him basically alcoholic fruit juice, the godawful beer had loosened him up anyway- </p><p>The whole trip is a disaster, in short.<br/>
“I thought I’d seen you around. You’ve been to a few of the- <i>oooooh</i>,” Shirabu says in recognition, smiling widely. He’s clearly had a few drinks himself, although it doesn’t make Akira feel any better. “Are you maybe the ‘Kunimi-chan’ Oikawa was yelling to when we played Nagoya U?” </p><p>Akira sighs in defeat. He feels somehow like he’s lost to Shiratorizawa all over again, and this time, it is all Oikawa’s fault.<br/>
“What are you doing here?” Shirabu asks, hardly knowing that Akira would freeze up at that question. Hardly knowing he’d spit it back at him. </p><p>“Escorting a friend.” He snaps. “What are <i>you</i> doing here.” He says more than asks. But Shirabu smiles, a hint dangerously.<br/>
“Oh, me? Escorting a friend. Looking for people to, you know.” He waves his hand vaguely. “There are usually quite a few pretty ones here. I have to say it didn’t disappoint. Yourself included, of course.” </p><p>And nope. Akira will not, cannot deal with that. His mind does not compute. He has lectures in the morning. No he doesn’t, it’s Saturday, but he wants to sleep and he does not want some guy from Shiratorizawa f-<i>flirting</i> with him. If that’s even what’s happening. Because it’s not. Akira is leaving. </p><p>“I’m going home now.” He says, and sidles towards the exit. “Good luck in… volleyball…” He adds awkwardly. Shirabu laughs. </p><p>“You should come practice with us. Aoba Johsai were pretty good. Say, you went to Kitagawa Daiichi, too, didn’t you? You’re probably really good.” He says earnestly. “Even if not, we could study.” </p><p>Akira just doesn’t really get it. He thinks he feels as Kindaichi did, watching two male characters kiss and understanding logistically what is happening, but at the same time not understanding at all. It doesn’t reach any level of comprehension in his brain. </p><p>“I- don’t have my phone on me.” He mutters, only to have it ring. He answers as an escape. </p><p>It’s Matsuka, wondering where he is. It’s very hard to hear him though, so Akira’s not really sure if he’s telling him not to go to the flat, or that Matsuka will not be going back to the flat tonight. </p><p>Akira has headphones. He will manage, so long as there is no one in his immediate vicinity.<br/>
“I’m going…” He points weakly at the exit, a bouncer eyeing them stonily. “Nice to meet you.” He bows slightly. Shirabu huffs. </p><p>“Can I walk you home?” He asks, and Akira wants to shoot back a no, but he doesn’t really know the way back, and he’s not so keen on the idea of walking home alone at some unknown time in the morning. He’s not really that brave. </p><p>“Do what you want.” He says instead, shrugging, somehow knowing that Shirabu is going to follow him anyway. </p><p>And he does.</p>
<hr/><p>They chat, mostly stilted talk of volleyball. Akira can tell Shirabu wants to ask about why he’s not playing now, but he keeps him talking about the team – mainly so it’s not a totally awkward silence between them. Thinking about volleyball is easier than thinking about where he’s come from, who is with him, and what said person implied about him. </p><p>The buses aren’t running, but it’s not too cold, so they do actually walk. Akira wishes he would just call a taxi, but he doesn’t; Shirabu keeps talking, and Akira, in his tipsy state, finds it almost pleasant. Like he’s got a friend again. He can dream. Maybe he could get along with Shirabu. </p><p>Maybe he could not, his mind responds sarcastically, as he stares at his door in lieu of staring at Shirabu, who he has, in his tipsy state, noted really is quite pretty. </p><p>He thought his type was tall dark and lanky, if he could even be said to have a type. One person doesn’t really count, he doesn’t think. </p><p>“Thanks.” He murmurs, realising he should probably get his keys out. He does nothing. “Uh…” He doesn’t have anything else to say, why is he talking more, why? “See you around…?” He ventures, eyes wandering back to Shirabu. </p><p>“Do you want my phone number?” Akira blinks at him, and in the low light, he thinks Shirabu blushes faintly. “You weren’t escorting a friend, were you?” Akira frowns, and Shirabu realises he’s overstepped, holding his hands up in apology. “It’s chill, it’s fine. I’m bi. Just, if you wanna talk about that, I know sports teams can be a bit… overbearing, sometimes, and you really didn’t look very comfortable. I might just be assuming though,” He says, and Akira wants to object. </p><p>Maybe he’s just tired of hiding when he does find his voice though.<br/>
“Okay.” He mutters, and holds his phone out. Shirabu pauses before he takes it, glancing up at Akira as he takes it, as though daring him to take it back. Shirabu fumbles with his phone for a while, an old flip-phone model that needed updating two years ago, and is woefully out of date now. He frowns at it until he must hit upon the right thing, and presses his number into the memory of Akira’s phone. Akira’s brain is locked on watching his fingers move, all the elegant grace of a setter, similar to Oikawa and Yahaba, and Kageyama whenever Akira had seen him, and when he returns it, Akira swivels the screen to see if he really has done it, or if it’s all an elaborate prank. </p><p>It doesn’t seem to be. It’s on a new conversation thread, a simple text already sent from him to ‘Shirabu Kenjirou’, and Shirabu’s phone pings a second later. It’s a brand new smart phone, and Akira gets to watch deft setter fingers unlock it, and navigate swiftly to the new text. </p><p>“Shall I set it as Kunimi?” He asks, looking up.<br/>
“Kunimi Akira.” He confirms, and gets a smile, and shortly after, a new text. It takes him considerably longer to open his again. </p><p>‘<i>Nice to meet you, Kunimi Akira-kun</i>’ greets him. He almost laughs. To stop himself, he nods, and gets his keys. </p><p>“You know,” Shirabu starts again as he turns away, “You really are quite pretty.” </p><p>Akira isn’t sure whether he was meant to hear that, or what to think. He takes, as he does to things that confuse him, to ignoring it, and waves vaguely as he shuts the door behind him. </p><p>He sleeps surprisingly well that night.</p>
<hr/><p>The phone call from Matsuka must have been to say he wasn’t coming back, since he wobbles in late in the morning. He finds Akira staring into a pan of cooking food like it holds the answers to the universe, mostly because he’s hungry. And it’s better than studying. He’s tired of instant ramen. He’s even tired of instant phở. Matsuka had vegetables Akira didn’t feel guilty about stealing, and he throws all his finest cooking instincts into a pot and stirs it. It’s not burning. That’s a bonus. Whether it will taste good is anyone’s guess, aside from Akira’s. He guesses it will taste bad. His finest cooking instincts are honed from the one adult in the house who liked cooking rarely being able to do it. </p><p>“Kunimi that smells rank. I want some.” Matsuka groans, slumping at the table. “Man, last night was craaaay-zaaaaay. There was this dude who looked like a girl, I swear, but I went with-”<br/>
“Matsuka, I don’t care.” Akira snaps. He really, <i>really</i> doesn’t need to hear it. Toda, thankfully, chooses that moment to come into the kitchen and sneer at them both. </p><p>“Matsuka-kun, don’t drool on the table. Please.” The please sounds as though it pains her to say it. “Kunimi-kun, whatever you’re cooking smells like it died first.” </p><p>“That would be a good thing, I wouldn’t want to cook something alive, Toda-chan.” He returns. She’s always a little harsh in the mornings. Akira thinks she also went out last night. </p><p>“Hey, did you meet any cute guys?” Matsuka suddenly asks, and Akira feels slightly as though the world is melting at the edges; thankfully, Toda thinks he’s talking to her.<br/>
“No, of course not. All the ones in clubs are leechy. Yeuch.” She mock-gags, filling up the kettle. “You need any water to drown that in, Kunimi-kun?” She jibes.<br/>
“It’s perfectly fine, Toda-chan.” He remarks back, and gives Matsuka a harsh glare. For once, he seems to get it, mouthing an apology at him. </p><p>Everything goes into a functional quiet; Akira’s food cooking to some kind of state, the rice cooker going on, the kettle boiling, and Matsuka playing games on his phone. Akira suppresses the urge to go upstairs and instead sits himself at the table, with something resembling food. Toda and Matsuka look at it curiously. </p><p>“I take it back,” She says, eyebrows raised. “It looks like it re-died.”<br/>
“Re-died isn’t a word.” He mumbles, hesitantly chewing on some. It could stand to be better, but mostly it’s just tasteless nothing dressed in some spice. It’s not great, but it’s not awful. What it is, is edible, and Akira sets to eating it. He fends off Matsuka when he grabs some chopsticks and tries to steal some, and silently admits it’s not pretty, but feels a certain amount of pride that he cooked all on his own. Even if they were Matsuka’s vegetables. </p><p>The other two bicker until they eventually decide to order pizza, and then continue bickering while they wait. Hayami descends on the kitchen while this occurs, in all her honour student overbearing niceness Akira finds irritating. He could see the cracks in Oikawa. He can’t see any with her, and it unnerves him. He says even less in her presence than anyone else in the flat, and wouldn’t be too upset if she suddenly moved out. </p><p>“Good afternoon!” She intones brightly. “Nice to see you cooking, Kunimi-kun. What have you made?”<br/>
“A mess?” Matsuka and Toda say at the same time. “Food” is Akira’s answer, neither of which satisfy her.<br/>
“It must have some name.” </p><p>He looks her dead in the eye.<br/>
“Re-died soul.” He says, utterly deadpan. She goes an odd shade of white, and moves on swiftly.<br/>
“Did you have a nice time out, Matsuka-kun, Toda-chan?” She asks instead, and seeing that Matsuka is about to regale the tale of his night – hopefully minus his presence in it, at least at the start, or the reason for going – Akira escapes back to his room. </p><p>He finds his phone flashing with a new text. <i>Kindaichi<i>, he thinks first, and flicks it open while he chews a mildly burnt conglomeration that must have stuck to the bottom of the pan. </i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>It’s not Kindaichi; well, more accurately, it’s not just Kindaichi. He’d texted an hour or so ago, complaining how biology was difficult to remember and all the different names for body parts was getting to him, and that Toé was visiting in two weeks’ time and he couldn’t wait- </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Kindaichi sent wordy texts. Akira doesn’t quite have the energy to parse through it until he’s exhausted all the texts; there’s one from Mariru, a kouhai at Aoba Johsai that had wormed his way into Akira’s good books by being almost as lazy as him, and also kind of a suck up to him, complaining about Mizoguchi. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>There is one from Shirabu. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Akira didn’t really think he’d text at all – he’d only been sure he hadn’t dreamed the entire encounter (wasn’t quite sure if that would have been better or worse than it actually happening…) because he’d checked that Shirabu’s number, and text, was still on there from last night. He reads the new one with a certain amount of caution. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>‘<i>Please tell me you have a hangover<i>’, is all it says. Akira smirks, and sets to replying. ‘<i>No, I don’t</i>’ he plugs in, and sends without much thought. He goes back to his food. He’ll reply to the rest once he’s done. </i></i></i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Except it pings again, and it’s Shirabu again. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>‘<i>be nicer to your senpai</i>’, which almost has Akira respond that he’s lying, but a quick search through one of the tournament pamphlets he kept from when Aoba Johsai beat Shiratorizawa (he’s still a little surprised Oikawa didn’t make them get it framed) informs him that Shirabu is indeed in the year above him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>‘<i>why are you in my classes then</i>’ he returns, and like lightning, gets a response.<br/>
‘<i>didn’t like my first course, changed it</i>’ </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira realises he’s sent two texts within five minutes. It’s way too fast for him. Even Kindaichi gets them about once every ten minutes as a maximum. He finishes the rest of his food before he types out a reply. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>‘<i>senpai no more, then.</i>’ and then pauses, because he’s kind of intrigued. ‘<i>changed from what to what?</i>’</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>That conversation becomes a steady stream, interwoven with actual conversations. He’s surprisingly easy to talk to, and in fact, much like Kindaichi, doesn’t mind too much if Akira nods off, or responds with hums more than any actual words. He learns that Shirabu started medicine, hated it, and decided to go to his second choice of engineering, although he’s got more of a bio-medical lean than Akira. Akira himself is tending a little towards electrical. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira learns things. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu goes out about once a week. Shirabu cooks even worse than Akira – although to be fair, Akira has been practicing. (He likes things the same, and an easy way to ensure that is to cook it himself, because he won’t change the recipe. Also, Hayami can cook, and that annoys him.) Shirabu religiously attends the volleyball practices, and gets on with quite a number of people. He often gets invites from medical students to parties; he persuades Akira to tag along once. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Once. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu likes to study on the fourth floor of the library, because he feels like he’s done at least some exercise going up the steps, and it’s quieter. There is also a view out the windows over the town beyond; Akira can see what he means, but he’s still sorely tempted to take the lift. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu’s phone is always going, a soft rattle that gets on his nerves. Shirabu texts a lot, and Akira doesn’t know how he fits any living in between texts, volleyball and studying. He gets good grades. Better than Akira’s, anyway, which annoys him enough to try harder. Considering he has few friends and no on-going club commitments, he’s not going to be beaten by someone who seems to get his entire life balance perfect. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>They study together; sometimes alone, sometimes with other people, and Akira tends to sidle off with a vague excuse after a while if there are more people. He gets uncomfortable in crowds, he claims, and it has a speck of truth; what he’s really found is that large groups of people are always weirdly into talking about and showing soulmarks. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira does not like that at all. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu hasn’t asked, which is a blessing. Akira’s secret is safe for the moment; one of his friends did though, and he muttered the lie about his mum and they leave him alone, although he catches Shirabu staring like he doesn’t quite believe him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu is quite helpful. He’s better at the practical aspects of the course, actually explaining things and writing things up; Akira is pretty solid on the theories, but pretty bad at explaining himself, so having someone who actually understands engineering to read over his papers is rather useful. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira does not talk about where they met, or why. He doesn’t want to. There isn’t any point, anyway, he thinks sometimes, late at night when he can’t sleep and he’s stressed. Nobody wants an unmarked soul. Nobody would give up a soulmate for an unknown. It doesn’t matter who he likes, because no one is going to let themselves fall for him when they have a contract of a long relationship with somebody else. Who would turn that down? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’s not really upset, he says to himself, every time he sees his unblemished skin. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care when someone finally asks Shirabu about his soulmarks, and Shirabu shrugs, shows them one on his shoulder, linking him to someone called Kawanishi, and tells them about the one on his hip, attaching him to his adopted sister. He doesn’t care when he goes home for summer and sees Kindaichi imitating the sun with Toé by his side, hands woven together. He doesn't care when his sister Tomo admits to seeing her ‘just-a-friend’ match as a romantic partner, and things get a little awkward in the Kunimi household for a while.  </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He is curious that Shirabu doesn’t seem too bothered like everyone else seems to be. But he doesn’t ask, and so Shirabu doesn’t say. Kindaichi notes how often Akira’s phone flashes and teases him about getting a girlfriend. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I haven’t got a girlfriend.” He responds. Toé leans forward.<br/>
“Too much trouble, right?” She grins; the angle she’s at means he can see Kindaichi’s soulmark, on her upper neck, almost hidden by her hair. “Texting you all the time, wanting to meet up. So much trouble, isn’t it?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i> “You’re not any trouble!” Kindaichi squawks in protest.<br/>
“It also applies to boyfriends, you know,” she teases, eyeing him sideways, “They text a lot too.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira knows that she’s teasing Kindaichi rather than making any kind of comment, but unseen to them, he twitches. Some people just do text a lot. It’s not exactly gender specific, but it doesn’t matter, because Shirabu texts everyone a lot. They’re just friends, anyway. Akira isn’t going to be with anyone. He can do without that hassle. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Ma-ko-<i>to</i>!” Kindaichi is whining when he tunes back in. “I don’t text that much! Kunimi, I don’t text that much, do I?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“You text more than I do.” Akira replies. They both roll their eyes.<br/>
“A squid would text more than you do, Akira-kun.” Toé reminds him. He’s reminded of how he had to slow his texting down to Shirabu, caught up in the speedy replies. “And you do text quite a bit, Yuu. Although it’s not you bothering him now.” The phone chooses that moment to buzz again. He hopes, just to spite them, that it’s his sister asking if he’s going to be home for dinner. What he suspects is that it’s actually Shirabu telling him about a film he was going to see with some of his friends from home. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Did you really get a girlfriend without telling me?” Kindaichi asks. Toé looks somewhere between confused and bemused. “Kunimi, when did you-”<br/>
“I doubt that he wouldn’t-” Toé starts. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I haven’t got a girlfriend.” He repeats. The two of them stop talking, raising an eyebrow at him. “I won’t ever have a girlfriend.” They blink at him.<br/>
“Boyfriend?” Kindaichi asks, clearly remembering their chat a few years ago now. Akira is impressed with his own ability to keep a straight face in that moment.<br/>
“Nor that.” He says instead.<br/>
“Heterosexual life partner?” Toé pitches in, half teasing and half serious. Akira snorts. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“What even is that? But no. I won’t. I don’t… I don’t match. I don’t have anything <i>to</i> match.” He admits. They look shocked, which is fair enough.<br/>
“Kunimi!” Kindaichi looks already like he’s going to cry. “That’s so- so sad, I mean, you’re-”<br/>
“Don’t pity me. I don’t care.” He interrupts, frowning as he chews somewhat aggressively on the straw to his drink, lemonade that’s way too fizzy. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“But- but!” Kindaichi splutters.<br/>
“So?” Toé intones. Akira looks at her, wrong-footed. He doesn’t think anyone’s first reaction has been ‘so?’ in such a blasé voice. “Are you just going to give up on ever having a relationship because of that? Plenty of people have relationships and stuff with people who don’t match them. Mum had one soulmate when she was young, but he died. So she’s basically like you. She got a husband, got married. Not everyone ends up with their soulmate.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira did not know that. Kindaichi blubbers more, utterly useless in this kind of situation. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Yeah, but…” He can’t actually think of a response. He gestures vaguely at the two of them. “You, everyone else, they get with soulmates. It’s not exactly rare.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Toé snorts, and jabs a thumb in Kindaichi’s direction, who grabs a wodge of napkins to blow his nose with. Akira reminds himself never to go and see any kind of sad movie with him, for fear of drowning.<br/>
“You think I got together with cry-baby here just because we match?” She says, clearly not expecting an answer. She already knows it. “Nope. I told Mum, and she said if you don’t work, you don’t work. You can’t force it, and a little mark on your skin isn’t actually going to change how you feel about someone overnight.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira nods, slowly. Less because he gets it, and more because he’s stunned, and doesn’t know what else to do.<br/>
“I tested it out. I made sure I liked him. Yeah, I ended up falling in love with him-” Kindaichi wails in what Akira hopes is a happy noise, “But a lot of people don’t, or they stick with soulmates because they feel they should. At the end of the day, Akira-kun, it’s a birthmark that happens to match someone else’s. What you do with that knowledge is up to you.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira just stares at her. He’s heard similar sentiments before, on the web and from family who know, but never- she’s totally unrelated to his situation. She’s a friend of a friend, really, although Akira would call her a friend now. She didn’t have to say anything, could have just moved on or given him random platitudes. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>For once, he doesn’t feel quite as negative about his clear skin. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Now,” She starts again, dangerous smirk on her lips. “Who was it you’re texting?”</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Secrets do not remain so for long in front of a united front of both Kindaichi and Toé. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"<i>Shirabu?!</i>" Kindaichi screeches, making sure it doesn't remain a secret to anyone else unfortunate enough to be sitting in McDonald's. "The setter from Shiratorizawa?!" </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Yes." Akira states. Toé is giggling behind her hand. Akira wishes he'd not said anything, or lied. Why couldn't it have been some other team, or just anyone unrelated to his high school volleyball career? "I guess we're friends. More study partners, though." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Does Oikawa-san know?" Kindaichi asks, only minorly less hysterical. "Fraternising with the enemy! Akira you're doomed!" </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"They're not the enemy. Also, why would Oikawa know? He's in Nagoya." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"You said you met him up after a game he'd played there." Toé adds. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"He dragged me off to a party, yes. I haven't really been to any of the games since." More because he'd recognised Shirabu as being from Shiratorizawa, and hadn't quite wanted to go back. Not that it had helped. Shirabu had invited him to several practices since they'd become friends, although Akira hadn't gone. Didn't know if he wanted to get sucked into volleyball and a team again. Part of him, though, wanted to play with Shirabu, to see how different it was from having Oikawa, Watari or Yahaba as a setter. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Another part of him decided that spending even more time with Shirabu was an ambiguously bad idea. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Aren’t you interested anymore?” Kindaichi tilts his head, puzzled. “You went from vice-captain to nothing?” Akira just shrugs. Once he’d realised Shirabu was on the university team, he’d wanted to avoid him, and he doesn’t want to subject himself to yelling from coaches any more than he needs to, now that he’s decided he doesn’t want to take it any further. Sometimes he gets restless and goes to the gym to burn some energy off, but it’s not that often, and mostly when he has to do some studying. He likes running occasionally, but he’s not bothered about keeping himself at peak physical fitness. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Would you have joined a team with Shiratorizawa?” Akira returns, and Kindaichi considers it.<br/>
“Actually, Semi – Eita? The other setter – he’s on our team. He’s okay. Kind of quiet. Mostly.” Kindaichi says, considering. Akira does, now he thinks about it, remember that being mentioned. He can’t really remember the members of Shiratorizawa though, never quite as invested in the rivalry as Oikawa and Iwaizumi. “He’s studying pharmacy! I didn’t even know that was a course…” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Does Oikawa know you get on with one of the guys from Shiratorizawa?” Akira shoots back.<br/>
“But I don’t text him all the time!” Kindaichi protests, at which Toé snorts, and Akira looks down to stop his face changing. It’s not all the time. Shirabu just texts everyone a lot, and he has to reply sometimes.<br/>
“You have a serious conversation going on here, Akira-kun.” He’d told himself there was nothing incriminating on his phone when he’d handed it over as proof. He’s been re-considering the five minutes Toé has spent scrolling up. In his defence, it’s several months’ worth of text. “He’s sent you selfies! Is that his cat? It’s so cute!” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“No, it’s one of his teammates’.” Akira replies. Shirabu took videos sometimes of the cat doing ridiculous things. Akira isn’t much of a cat lover, but he does find it funny. There was one where the libero had dove next to the cat, utterly freaking it out, and making it jump several feet in the air. Matsuka had actually come to check he was alright after hearing the aftermath of that one. “He doesn’t send that many pictures.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Toé intones, and both Akira and Kindaichi peer at her confused. “You must be friends. It’s a rule, isn’t it? I’ve been scrolling for five whole minutes, Akira-kun, and I’m not at the top yet. You don’t have that many texts with a random stranger.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>She may have a point.<br/>
“So? He’s doing engineering too. We study sometimes.” Akira remarks, blithely, and eats a chip, laying mostly forgotten on the table. They’re a bit cold, and not great. “It’s nothing important.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“You hid it.” Kindaichi points out. “Doesn’t that mean you knew you were friends with the enemy?”<br/>
“Shiratorizawa are not the enemy, Kindaichi,” he repeats.<br/>
“But how did you meet? Isn’t he a year above us?”<br/>
“Since when did you know so much about them? And he’s in my year, he did medicine for a year and dropped out.” Akira is not completely sure why he’s telling them. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“So.” Toé interrupts the start of Kindaichi’s retort. “What’s he like, really?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira definitely gets the sense he’s dug himself a pit, and with handing his phone over, jumped straight into it.<br/>
“Yeah! I’m totally going to ask Semi, too.” Kindaichi adds. It only increases the sense of dread.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Spending the summer being teased about Shirabu every time his phone flashes, and dragged to various things, university seems almost a reprieve from the whirlwind of Toé and Kindaichi; they’d even smuggled them into Aoba Johsai to see how the team was doing. It was mostly Toé’s idea, and she’d wanted to check the soccer team again, having left a month or so before due to exams. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Both Akira and Kindaichi passed, and Toé got into the same university as Kindaichi. Akira is pleased for them, but he could have done without the phone call from Kindaichi about it, wailing in joy and sobbing through most of it, and almost entirely incomprehensible. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>So he returns to university, and happily gets reminded that Hayami has moved out. They’ve replaced her with one of Toda’s friends, saying she got priority as the only girl in the house. Akira doesn’t really know Kawasaki; he’s only seen her around a few times. A little like Toda, he would guess, if a little less grumpy in the morning. He hopes. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’s weirdly looking forwards to lectures. He thinks it’s the routine of it, getting into a timetable, going to lectures and doing the research. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu smiles when he spots Akira, sitting close to the back, notes open, and weaves his way through the other returning students to him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Hey!” He leans back into the chair next to Akira’s, and the way the lecture theatre is constructed, Akira feels the movement. He feels their knees knock into each other, and shifts so they’re not touching anymore. It’s only polite. “Summer goes so fast, doesn’t it?” Shirabu huffs. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira disagrees. He enjoyed seeing Kindaichi, and Toé. He enjoyed bumping into Yahaba and having ramen with him, and the impromptu team reunion that was entirely too loud and boisterous for him but nice in some ways. He enjoyed being at home and not having to think about how food was going to appear in front of him (although his step-mum decided that now he could apparently not kill himself for a year, this counted as being able to cook). </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He thinks he enjoys being at university more. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I suppose.” He says instead though, and Shirabu smiles at him, slightly dangerously.<br/>
“You know, this year I’m going to get you on the volleyball team. You know that, right?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira blinks. He hadn’t known anything of the sort. Shirabu had tried to get him to even observe practices, so he knows Shirabu wouldn’t have complained if he’d joined, but not that it was his aim. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I know now?” He tries. Shirabu laughs.<br/>
“Yup. You know you want to. I need more analytical minds on the team.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira pretends to consider it for a moment.<br/>
“Should I start running now?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu gives him a condescending smirk.<br/>
“We both know I’m in better shape than you. I’d win a race.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Which may be true, but it’s also rude. Akira sniffs, facing forwards.<br/>
“Not if I cheated.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He can practically feel Shirabu smile again, too innocent to actually be, and he leans a little bit closer to whisper in his ear.<br/>
“Who says I won’t cheat?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira decides to focus on the lecture instead.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>After a few weeks, Shirabu wins. It’s just observing though, just observation, right up until a guy called Inuoka asks him enthusiastically if he’s a first year and if he’s joining, and Shirabu has to go mention his position in Aoba Johsai and Inuoka says he’s heard of them through his friend Hinata (is there anyone in high school volleyball who hasn’t encountered that child?) and practically corrals Akira into the locker room to get changed. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira decides at that point, that this was probably Shirabu’s plan, and that he was counting on Akira not being being bothered enough to fight. He’s not wrong, and the smirk he gets tells him Shirabu knew he wasn’t going to be wrong. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’s not in as good shape as he had been, leaving Aoba Johsai, but he’s not in awful condition, probably mostly due to Kindaichi dragging him to practices and camp and various activities over the summer. Shirabu looks surprised that he’s not too exhausted half way through. And then tells him he needs to work harder, if that’s the case. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira reminds himself that Shiratorizawa had a demon for a coach, and Shirabu has likely been through worse; he is definitely exhausted by the end of that session, but he… actually quite enjoyed it. Inuoka was tall and fast, good for blocking. Their libero is half-decent, although he could do with a little more co-ordination. It’s an odd mix of people who’ve played volleyball for a long time to varying levels and total newbies, and Akira sees what Shirabu means. They need something to pull the team together, really. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Not that Akira thinks he is that component, really. He might have been vice-captain but that was more due to ability than earning a position; he’s just not great at people. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Still, he doesn’t argue when Shirabu asks if he’s going to join this year, and doesn’t look at the satisfied smirk Shirabu wears the entire evening, while Akira meets the unofficial team cat and determines that this volleyball team are no less loud or boisterous than Aoba Johsai or Kitagawa Daiichi, but that maybe, he doesn’t mind that too much. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>So he gets sucked back into volleyball, and the weeks start to pass in a routine, very similar to his first year routine, but with more activity, and more Shirabu. They’ve taken a few different modules this year, so they don’t share that many lectures, although as it happens, they ended up in the same group for one of the tutorials, so they work together on that. He doesn’t get quite as many texts from Shirabu, but that’s probably more due to the fact they spend more time in each other’s presence than they had. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira wasn’t convinced it was possible, but if it’s not thermodynamics at 9 on a Monday, it’s a tutorial at 12 on a Wednesday. If it’s not that, it’s volleyball, or a workshop, or a practice game, or seeing a movie, or studying together. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira does see other people, he tells himself. He goes to the shops with Toda, Matsuka and Kawasaki every week. He talks to other people off his course. He’s even, in some way, friends with Inuoka, although that leads to a meeting with Hinata and Kageyama which Akira could probably have done without (but they’re not so bad, really. Although he is curious about how much time Kageyama spends around the midget (although he’s hardly one to talk)). </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He just sees Shirabu most. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Not that it means anything at all. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Besides, as he is reminded every single time Shirabu changes in the locker room, Shirabu is matched. Akira is not. And no matter what Toé says, people with soulmates tend to stick with them. Just because it does happen doesn’t mean it’ll happen to him. He can accept that he’s probably not-straight without actually doing anything about it. He’s not gone back to that club (Shirabu has), he’s not talked about it, he’s not tried. He doesn’t really want to. He doesn’t have time for any relationships in between university, volleyball and sleep. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He does wonder though. Shirabu doesn’t talk much about his soulmates. The others do to varying extents; Inuoka still hasn’t found one of his and Akira has to politely inform him that it’s not him without telling him anything more. Most of the rest know all of their soulmates now, and a good chunk of them have settled down with one of them. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira has never met someone who isn’t matched. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’s never had the chance to ask, nor the inclination, whether Shirabu actually cares about soulmates or not. He’s never had the chance to compare experiences with anyone else who isn’t matched regarding their thoughts on it. He probably won’t. Certain studies show that less than 0.001% of the population have no marks. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Meaning that he’s unlikely to meet anyone who is unmarked. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He wonders, sometimes, if it means he doesn’t have a soul. In the middle of doing physics, it’s a bit too much of a thought to cope with, and Shirabu is right there, Akira is curious, too much for his own good, and he says the next thing on his mind. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Who is Kawanishi?"<br/>
It’s out of the blue while they're doing particle physics; it’s no surprise Shirabu jolts. Akira finds the topic a little easier than most of the rest of the class, so his brain is less fixed on quarks and neutrons and more fixed on 'Shirabu has a soulmate'. He shouldn't be thinking it. He doesn't really want to ask. But he wants to know. Shirabu eyes him for a moment. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Teammate from Shiratorizawa." He replies. "Why?" </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira points his pen at his shoulder, where he knows the mark lies, a deep scarlet red.<br/>
"Aren't you linked?" He questions, carefully keeping his voice level. He doesn't care. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He doesn't care that he can't bring himself to ask what he really wants to know.<br/>
"Yeah, I guess." Shirabu shrugs. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira doesn't get it. Shirabu has marks. He has a soulmate. Two in fact. He just seems so ambivalent about it.<br/>
"What's he like?" Akira asks instead. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He can't ask his real question, burning on the tip of his tongue. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i><i>What is Kawanishi to you</i>. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu hums, spinning his pencil around his finger in thought. He stops suddenly though, staring at Akira while an innocent smile grows on his face.<br/>
"You can meet him if you like." Akira raises an eyebrow. "He's coming over next weekend." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira doesn't really want to meet him, just wants to know Shirabu's thoughts on him, about him, for no other reason than he's curious. It is the same curiosity though that has him murmuring a 'why not?' and has Shirabu humming as though he knows something Akira doesn't. The same curiosity that makes Akira want to demand to know what Shirabu texts next, a hint of a smirk on his face. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He focuses on quarks, and rues the fact his attention ever wandered.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Kawanishi is... tall. And not overly talkative. Serious. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He buys Shirabu, and by extension Akira, a drink at the campus cafe; Akira wonders how he knew that he liked the salted caramel latte. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>A free drink is a free drink, though. And he drinks it, listening to the conversation between the other two. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It’s mainly volleyball. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It seems odd for a soulmate conversation, not that he would necessarily know; just that soulmates seem to bond over more than one thing. Seem to get on beyond the one thing that brought them together. Kindaichi and Toé are definitely like that, and Akira has silently watched a lot of soulmates meeting and staying together (it turns out Toda and Kawasaki are matched, and Matsuka met his final soulmate at a party at the start of term. They seem to be getting along well). </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Kunimi, right?"<br/>
Akira blinks, and finds two pairs of eyes on him, one distinctly more amused than the other. He nods.<br/>
"Shirabu said he finally managed to get you on the team." Kawanishi says. "You were at Aoba Johsai, and Kitagawa Daiichi. How come you didn't join anyway?" </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Didn't feel like it." He shrugs. "I watched a few games." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu laughs.<br/>
"I didn't know he was here until Oikawa – you know, that one setter with the good serve," Kawanishi nods in recognition, "Yelled at him during a game. I haven't seen anyone looking quite so much like they wanted to die on the spot." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira wonders about whether, if Oikawa hadn't noticed him, he and Shirabu would have met at all. Perhaps; they are on the same course, after all, but Akira probably would have been able to glide by on his plainness and avoid detection. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It sounds faintly dissatisfying.<br/>
Kawanishi is grinning when he tunes back in.<br/>
"High pitched and referring to you as a 'chan'? Sounds like him. He did the same to a guy on our team, Watari? Libero. They seemed to get on."<br/>
"I was hoping Kunimi-kun could give us the inside track on Oikawa, but he's been tight-lipped so far." Shirabu says, peering at Akira over the top of his drink. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"There is no inside track on Oikawa." He says. The other two look somewhat disappointed. "There are about six. You're best asking Iwaizumi." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Kawanishi whistles.<br/>
"Man, sounds like a right character. Any tips for beating him?" </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira considers it for a few seconds, and shrugs.<br/>
"No. I haven't played against him."<br/>
"Yet." Shirabu adds. Akira isn't overly looking forwards to going against Oikawa. The analytical stare he'll get, and the way he knows Oikawa probably has a neat mental file with his strengths and weaknesses on... It sounds like a pain to fight against. Maybe he could just be ill that day. "You're not skipping it, Kunimi." Akira blinks, seeing as Shirabu seemed to read his mind; he gets a pleasant smile in return. "You had that look when you're deciding if you can get away without doing another lap. You can't." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"I didn't say anything." Akira mumbles, somewhat shaken. They've known each other for about a year, but it still unnerves him when Shirabu comes out with eerily accurate comments about him. He's not sure what to think about the fact that Shirabu has clearly been watching him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Sometimes, Kunimi," Shirabu starts, and there is some kind of undertone to his voice. Something else. "You say things without saying anything at all. Sometimes they come through loud and clear." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Kindaichi never heard. But if Shirabu does... Just what is he hearing? Akira doesn't think he's been saying anything. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It makes him nervous.<br/>
"I'm helping Inuoka with maths soon." He blurts out, and Kawanishi looks bemused at his discomfort. Akira wants to escape.<br/>
"The library is a minute away. Come on, you've never said anything about how you think we can improve." Shirabu shuts his escape route down just like that. Akira gives up trying, mostly because it's a vague sense of unease that he would be fleeing, and he's really not sure why. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"We could gel more as a team." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The two of them look at him curiously.<br/>
"It's one team of six, not six individuals." Oikawa and Iwaizumi had said things like that, before. He'd only really understood after they'd left, and Akira had watched Kageyama learn that lesson before him, devoting himself to improvement and the team. With the split between Kyoutani and Yahaba, Watari desperately trying to keep things together, it had become glaringly obvious. Akira was not much good at people, but it had been something else to focus on aside from Kindaichi, and more interesting than only studying, so he'd tried his best. He likes to think he'd helped a bit; Mariru seemed to understand, always a little more outgoing than Akira, and started joining in with the efforts to pull the team back together. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"And that really worked for you." Kawanishi says sarcastically. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"You asked how this team could get better. Not about Aoba Johsai." Akira returns. "You're a good setter, Shirabu-kun, but you don't always choose the best option in the moment. We're not that good at read blocking. We need to practice that. And the receiving of the newer members. I think some people are playing in the wrong positions. We could do with a better coach, if you ever want to beat Oikawa again." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The two of them blink at him, stunned. Akira manages not to blush. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"See?" Shirabu says to Kawanishi. "This is why we need him. He's analytical."<br/>
"I don't even know if any of that is true." Kawanishi replies. It's not a slight on Akira; he couldn't really know what the team needed.<br/>
"It is, I just never thought about some of it. What do you mean, I don't always choose the best option?" He turns back to Akira. Akira busies himself with draining the rest of his drink to get himself back on a level. Also, it's getting cold, cold coffee is awful, and he does want to leave soon to meet Inuoka, and one of the other guys, Ogata, who'd signed up to the impromptu maths lesson. It sounds like a pain, but Inuoka promised him fresh bread during the next practice. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Inuoka's cooking was not to be sniffed at.<br/>
"You go for power over tactics. Sometimes a weaker hitter would work better, or get around a block better." He shrugs, putting the cup back down on the table. "Just my thoughts." He says as he stands up, wrapping his scarf around his neck and pulling his hat out his bag, shoving it on his head. He's warm at the moment, but in the December chill, that won't last. He can't be bothered with being cold, even if it's only a short walk to the library. Turning to Kawanishi, he bows just slightly. "Nice meeting you." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He walks off before either of them can comment further; he feels their eyes watch him as he goes, though, and wonders if there is something unsaid between them that he missed. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The thought unnerves him.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Maths with Inuoka and Ogata goes about as well as expected, and Akira is tired by the end of it. It's also raining, and there isn't a simple bus back to his flat. He's got an umbrella, at least, but it leaves him entirely too much time to think. Normally, he could jog, at least halving the time, and forcing his attention to remain with the outside world, but when everyone has cleared off, the rain is steadily falling and drumming a calming rhythm on the umbrella, his mind has nowhere to turn but inwards. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He's annoyed. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Because he thought meeting Kawanishi might help solve the issue, answer the question, but it's just muddied the waters more. He still doesn't know what Kawanishi is to Shirabu, or what he thinks of soulmates. He can't just ask, but he wants to know, to fill gaps in his knowledge about Shirabu. He doesn't talk about his soulmates much – Akira has heard about his adopted sister but never met her – but then he seemed to get on perfectly well with Kawanishi, and they had the air of being linked. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It's weird, but being separate from it, Akira has gotten pretty good at deciding which bonds are soulmate bonds. He doesn't much like it, but it's almost like something changes. He can't explain it, but he'd felt it with his sister and her friend-turned-partner, before they'd known. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Kawanishi and Shirabu had that air. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Are they together? He can't tell, and it annoys him, because he won't, can't ask. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It shouldn't even bother him. What Shirabu does is up to him, it's not like Akira has any control over that. They spend quite a lot of time together, but not all, and Akira doesn't keep tabs on him, doesn't much care what Shirabu does outside of lectures and volleyball and the awkward in-between times they spend in the library or the cafe. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He doesn’t <i>care</i>. Even if he is- is <i>that way inclined</i>, he doesn’t want to <i>anything</i> with <i>Shirabu</i>. Friends, and nothing else. So they spend a lot of time together, but that doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t mean he feels anything, and he’d sworn not to after Kindaichi. It was enough to know. He doesn’t need to <i>be</i> with anyone, doesn’t need a- a <i>partner</i> or anything. He’s perfectly happy drifting through life with just friends. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He already knows what his future looks like. He’ll be in an apartment, go to work as an engineer in some firm, be some nameless minion slaving for money so he can sleep easy, and get visited by Kindaichi and Toé, go to their wedding, probably stay friends with Shirabu and Toda and Matsuka, maybe even Inuoka, work and sleep and learn to cook better, and probably get some low maintenance pet like land snails. Or fish. Fish look pretty. And they won’t die if he forgets to feed them for one day, and they don’t screech at him, or meow, or bark in his ear when he’s trying to sleep. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Yawning, he pauses at the roadside, waiting for a gap in the traffic. He’d put some music on, but he forgot to charge his phone, and it’s dead. The rain hasn’t let up yet, anyway, content to leave him with his thoughts still. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’s not upset about the prospect of that being his future. He’s known, ever since he connected totally pale, flawless skin with no matches, no souls linked to him, that he was going to be alone. It hadn’t really bothered him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Perhaps a little. But then, the thought of actually saying something to Kindaichi was chilling, and in fact, the thought of having to express himself to anyone at all. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>His mind produces a scenario wherein he confesses to Shirabu. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He shuts it down as quickly as it appeared, but it lingers in his mind’s eye. He scowls at everything after that, because it’s <i>not</i> ever going to happen. He doesn’t want to say anything to Shirabu. He doesn’t have anything to say. Friends. That is it. Shirabu performs a very similar role to Kindaichi, forcing Akira to emerge from hibernation for things other than study, and functions as his social secretary. He’s thankful for that, however troublesome it is at times. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’s happy about his future prospects. An apartment all to himself sounds nice. Not having to share a kitchen or have anyone judge him if he’s looking at Facebook at 2 in the morning, or falls asleep in the bath. He could get <i>aquatic snails</i>. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira distracts himself from irritating thoughts of Shirabu by thinking about fish tanks, and what he’d have in it. It leads him on a several hour procrastination adventure across the internet, but it serves its function perfectly well, and he’s nearly forgotten about his annoyance regarding Shirabu and Kawanishi by the time he falls asleep.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Sunday mornings are perfectly designed for lie-ins; just far enough away from Monday to not be worried, and far enough away from Friday that he’s not so tired he just goes to sleep again. He is warm, comfortable, and mostly content, playing a game on his phone. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It rings, and he automatically answers, without really thinking about it. It’s ten. He doesn’t have to be anywhere, he’s not hungry enough to cook, and to be honest, he’s a little more interested in staying silent exactly where he is than conversing with anyone. He didn’t even see the name, his phone old enough that it knew it was ringing before it knew who was contacting him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>Kunimi?</i>” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu’s voice breaks into his perfect Sunday morning. It answers the who, but not the why. Shirabu tends to text, but then, Akira has also been kind of ignoring the incessant flashing of his phone, wanting to remain in his dream world away from university and volleyball. He doesn’t get too many chances to be lazy, and he’d been capitalising on it. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Shirabu.” He murmurs back, not moving the phone, so it remains a few inches away from his face. “Can I help you?” He asks. He’s pretty sure he was getting to a high score on his solitaire game. And he needs to check the cats in Neko Atsume, both far more amenable and far less amenable than the real thing. At least he’s getting annoyed at code, not real creatures. He should probably also think about what to cook if he doesn’t want to buy lunches all week. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>From the phone, there is the distinctive sound of a volleyball being hit at speed, the squeak of trainers on hardwood floor, and a grunt. Someone is spiking a ball. Akira can guess who. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>Are you doing much today? If you wanted, you could come practice with me and Kawanishi. Pretty sure Inuoka’s coming, too.</i>” Shirabu says, as though the prospect should entice him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>A part of him, it does. But most of him is at a perfect temperature, considering it’s winter, and if he moves even a bit, it’ll let in the icy air of an under-heated student flat. He shivers at the mere thought. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Besides, he does not want to have to deal with Shirabu and Kawanishi together. Inuoka can act as their third party today. Akira isn’t moving. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I’ve got some studying.” He replies vaguely, withholding a sigh. It’s not a lie; he really needs to at least start on the research to a paper on mechanical failures of bridges over the years, and what can be learned from them. He’s kind of looking forward to watching videos of dramatic bridge collapses. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>You can’t tell me I need to improve my setting then deny me practice.</i>” Shirabu intones.<br/>
“I’m not denying you anything. You’re already practicing with Kawanishi.”<br/>
“<i>He’s pretty lazy. And I’m not going to be setting to him in a real game again.</i>”<br/>
“I’m pretty lazy, Shirabu.” Akira points out. Maybe he should go, considering they won’t have practice for a while during the holidays. Although he’s staying at university, his dad and step-mum having gone to visit her family in Osaka. He’d not relished the idea of subjecting himself to two weeks solid of his sisters’ presence, and the corresponding boy- and girlfriend. Kindaichi said he’d visit Akira. Toda and Matsuka are going home; Kawasaki is fairly quiet when she’s not playing her rock music games, and Akira is looking forwards to watching it snow, and not having to go out. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>Only when you can’t be bothered.</i>” He gets in response.<br/>
“Isn’t that the definition of lazy?” He murmurs, pulling the covers up closer to his face. His hand is getting cold holding the phone; sleep is far more enticing. “It’s cold, and I’m comfy and warm. Volleyball practice isn’t a top priority right now.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>There’s a sound Akira recognises as Shirabu clicking his tongue against his teeth, and he can see the image quite clearly in his mind, especially with his eyes closed; Shirabu in his tracksuit, one hand on his hip, frustrated look on his face, trying to think about how he can get Akira to the gym to practice. Akira feels his lips twitch upwards. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>And then down. Kawanishi is still there. Akira does not think he likes him. Even with Inuoka there – he’s probably just going to fawn over the new person, and it’s not going to make anything better, it’ll just be more people to deal with. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Collapsing bridge videos on his laptop, from the safety of his bed. He won’t even have to get changed into outdoor clothes. His flatmates are used to him pottering around in odd combinations of jumpers and tracksuit bottoms he’d never wear out. He values warmth. Doing some cooking would provide the dual purpose of creating food and heat. Efficient. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>Inuoka said he did some baking last night. I think he said he made toffee apple muffins?</i>” Shirabu says this more, apparently, to Kawanishi, who woops in confirmation. “<i>I persuaded him to bring some, Kunimi. Think, he’s going home for the holidays…</i>” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu has, of course, logged his weakness for freshly baked sweets. Toffee apple is pretty close to his favourite flavour of good salted caramel, and he considers it for a moment.<br/>
“The bakery down the road does pretty good pastries though. I’ll manage.”<br/>
“<i>Kawanishi said he’ll buy you another caramel latte if you practice with him.</i>” There is a dissenting squawk that shows Shirabu had made that up on the spot. “<i>Kawanishi owes me for-</i>” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>In the background, there’s a garbled sound, then static on the line for a moment, and Akira can’t work out what happened. The result ends up being him hearing, faintly, Kawanishi yelling that he would, if sounding unhappy about it. Akira snorts.<br/>
“Extortion, Shirabu. I thought you were above that.” He remarks, but he is intrigued. Shirabu practices with him all the time anyway, it’s not like this is any different. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>Volleyball is important to me, and you’re the only one who knows what you meant yesterday. I need an explanation. And a strategy.</i>”<br/>
“Can’t I just give you that over the phone? Or at next practice?” He’s opened his eyes through, trying to work out how long it would actually take him to get to the gym, and whether it would really be worth all the effort for a toffee apple muffin and a caramel latte. Both excellent things, but equally, so is bed, and warmth. And collapsing bridge videos. Who said studying couldn’t be fun. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu sighs heavily. There is a loud smack that sounds like he fended a volleyball off its course.<br/>
“<i>If you can cope with Kawanishi for three seconds longer, I’ll get you phở at Yato’s. I have to take him back to the train station, anyway.</i>” There is a long pause; Akira thinks about it seriously, because the phở is nearly legendary. Perfect levels of spice, of extras, of noodles. Also slightly out of Akira’s normal price range, and out of his way. He rarely has much need to go to the train station, and if he does, he rarely has the time to make the detour. “<i>His train leaves at two.</i>” Shirabu mutters, as though knowing Akira isn’t overly enamoured with the thought of spending too much more time with Kawanishi. It’s not really anything Kawanishi has done wrong, except be a frustratingly unreadable person who happens to be linked to Shirabu. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Fine, fine. Give me half an hour. And have that latte ready.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He hears Shirabu laugh.<br/>
“<i>Start running already, and it might still be hot when you get here.</i>” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira snorts, but he’s not quite so hateful of the cold air of the room when he moves.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>His days sidle into the holidays, empty days at the flat listening to English rock songs Kawasaki learns to play on her virtual guitar game – she invites Akira to play it a few times, and he will admit it’s quite fun, if harder than it looks (she beats him every time) – and watching snow fall. And texting Shirabu. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Kindaichi visits, Toé still back in Miyagi, her mum having gotten a bad cold, and she hadn’t wanted to leave her alone. He pokes around Akira's flat, makes quick friends with Kawasaki, and swiftly drags Akira out to go ice skating. The town has an outside rink in the winter, and mid-afternoon, it’s weirdly not overrun by children with skating aids. Akira also frowns, because he’s never been that good at skating, nor had Kindaichi told him they were coming here. He stares longingly at his comfortable trainers as he puts on the ice skates, heavy and irritating. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The only thing that saves him from total embarrassment is that Kindaichi is just as bad as him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It makes him think of a few trips out during high school in Miyagi being hell for just that reason, because Kindaichi would try and go fast and then try and grab Akira to stay upright, inevitably sending both of them crashing down, and into a pile, and Akira would have to try and extract himself from the utterly (thankfully) oblivious Kindaichi before his face felt like it was on fire. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>So while he’s glad that he doesn’t get the feelings like he always had done, and is therefore able to enjoy it more, Kindaichi still crashes into him, laughing, and sends them into a pile with knife shoes a little too close to his fingers. Akira still complains about being squashed, and Kindaichi still grins blindingly. Akira thanks every god he can dare to believe in that he doesn’t feel that way anymore, because he’s sure his heart might have died. That, and Kindaichi whines that Toé isn’t there to join them, which would have hurt. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Now it just makes him faintly melancholic, thinking about the future he knows is waiting for him. Pushing it away, he somehow drags them both into a standing position and tells Kindaichi to go get a skating penguin aid. He tries to get away, putting a burst of speed on, leaving Kindaichi flailing (and falling, by the sound of it). He glances back to watch, and ends up colliding into someone else. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>They are clearly far more competent than Akira at skating, because they don’t land in a pile, instead doing some kind of weird spin manoeuvre to a stop. Akira had grabbed onto their sleeves and Akira looks up to stop leaning on strangers  and to say thank you and sorry for crashing in the first place, but he instead finds a smirk he knows all too well, and everything about it seems a little too familiar. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu had texted him about his family coming over to take him home. Had texted him about ice skating because his sister loved it. Had texted him about that today, and Akira had said Kindaichi was taking him somewhere but he didn’t know where because he knew if he said, Akira would probably refuse and he didn’t want to deal with the fight. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Shirabu?!”<br/>
But he’s only connected that information this very moment. Shirabu smiles. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I like the hat.” He says. Akira, meanwhile, is getting unpleasant flashbacks to ice skating with Kindaichi years ago. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He doesn’t have anything to say to Shirabu. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He scuttles away and leans on the wall surrounding the edge.<br/>
“I didn’t-” he starts, but then finds himself interrupted twice in quick succession.<br/>
“Nii-chan!” A high-pitched, rapidly approaching voice says.<br/>
“Kunimi, who-?”<br/>
And then Kindaichi wipes him out again, both of them ending up in a familiar pile on the floor. Akira wishes that the ice would melt, admit him through to the cold dark underground of Japan, and stop tormenting him. It’s not okay to keep making him look like a total idiot in front of people. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He stays where he is, pressed against the barrier, Kindaichi’s shoulder too near his face, and grimaces.<br/>
“Please just let me die.” He murmurs to himself. At least his head was cushioned by his hat. Hopefully not scuffed, his step-mum had knitted it and covered the inside with fleece. Akira could have done without the pompom on the top, but it’s warm, so he doesn’t care. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“That’s no good!” The same high-pitched voice starts up again. Akira looks up to find a small girl in a puffy coat of around 8 looking at him, shoulder-length pin straight black hair clamped to her head by a beanie hat with a cartoon cat on it, gloved hands on her hips and a wide grin on her face. Beyond that, he sees Shirabu, trying not to laugh (and failing, miserably). “Come on, it’s <i>easy</i>. Me and Nii-chan can teach you!” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Ha, no. Akira is not having Shirabu teach him how to skate. That is a whole world of rather not. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Kindaichi sits up, finally removing the possibility of a broken nose from Akira, and scratches the back of his head sheepishly.<br/>
“Sorry! Are you friends of Kunimi’s?” He says, then must recognise Shirabu. “Ah! Shiratorizawa!” Shirabu looks faintly affronted by the nickname, but Kindaichi doesn’t wait for a response, turning instead to Akira. “You didn’t say he was going to be here!” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I didn’t know!” Akira returns, begrudgingly taking Shirabu’s sister’s hand to help him up, then carefully balances himself on the barrier, avoiding Shirabu’s eyes. “Well, I forgot, and you didn’t tell me we were ice skating.” He grumbles. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“How fortunate, then. This is my sister, Shirabu Konata.” She grins at them. “Konata, this is Kunimi Akira and…” He trails off, realising he doesn’t know Kindaichi’s name.<br/>
“Kindaichi Yuutarou! Nice to meet you. Sorry I can’t skate.” Kindaichi seems weirdly too happy about this version of events. It’s making Akira twitchy, especially the way Konata is looking between him and Shirabu. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The way Shirabu is looking at him, too. And Kindaichi. Akira surveys his options and decides escape is a good one.<br/>
“I’m going to skate.” He says, and does so, pushing away from the barrier shakily. Of course, he didn’t account for the fact that two of the three of them are much better skaters than him, and Konata catches up to him easily, skating to just in front of him and then jumping a half turn so she’s going backwards, just to taunt him he’s sure. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“So <i>you’re</i> the guy he keeps talking about.” She announces, and considers him for a moment. “You <i>are</i> quite pretty. And tall. Hey, lift me up!” She stretches her arms out to him. Akira snorts. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Do you want a head injury? Ask your brother, he might not drop you.” He says, fully ignoring the first part of her sentence. “I’m not that strong, either.”<br/>
“I’m not that heavy!” She shoots back. “And you really can’t skate.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira has been moving slowly, not holding onto the barrier, but it’d probably be quicker if he did. He’s been surprised by Shirabu – the Shirabu family, really – and he’s not at a level yet, needs a moment to think about it and think rationally again. The exit to the rink is coming up, and Akira eyes his opportunity. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I just need a quick break, alright? Go bother Shirabu.”<br/>
“You’re not even working hard! And you got here after we did. Come on, if you hold my hands, and let me know if I’m gonna hit someone, I’ll teach you how to skate. Another lap!” Konata beams at him, and Akira thinks about how his pride is somewhere underneath the city anyway, at this point. He doesn’t really have anything to lose, skating with Shirabu’s sister, and he might learn something. Not that that’s why he’s doing it, at all, when he offers his hands and she grins even wider. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“One lap.” He mumbles, sure his face is red, which he hopes looks like it’s just from the cold.<br/>
“It’s simple! It’s just like, one, two, right? Um, left and right? Which is…” She fumbles with the directions, clearly just learning them. It’s the first sign of uncertainty he’s heard from her. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Like this…” He knows the theory, really. He’s just not great at balance, and he doesn’t get much (any) practice. He’s sure he could learn, and with her there guiding him around, he does feel a little more confident.<br/>
“Yeah! You’re too elegant to be that bad at ice skating.” She announces, and Akira just kind of glides over it, unsure what to say. He mindlessly changes the topic, looking out, as she’d asked, for rogue skaters that could knock them over. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Shirabu talks about me?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Changes the topic to something even less safe than himself, or his lack of skating ability. <i>Nice one</i>, he thinks to himself. Konata grins dangerously.<br/>
“Yup! All the time. He was suuuper happy he got you on the team, he texted me. He put three shout things!” She intones gleefully.<br/>
“’Shout things’?” He enquires, puzzled. Her brow furrows, and she tilts into the corner, guiding him around it, and supporting him unthinkingly when he stumbles. He manages to remain upright, thankfully.<br/>
“Yeah, the- the dots, but that make it excited! They have them in manga lots…”<br/>
“Exclamation marks?” She peers at him. “For emphasis at the end of a sentence. Or in sound effects.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Is that what they’re called? The line then a dot underneath?” He nods. “Ohhh… But yeah. Three! He never uses three, so he must have been really excited.” Having travelled the curved section, she straightens them out to the longer section. Akira ponders where Shirabu and Kindaichi are, but he daren’t look, for fear of falling. If he can get around one lap of the rink, even led by an 8 year old, his dignity is at least patched up slightly. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>They make it another half of the way around, and Akira misses the exit again. Their pace is improving slowly, though. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Are you going to keep making him happy?” She asks, out the blue. Akira congratulates himself on not stumbling, and quickly diverts his thoughts to a more reasonable avenue; obviously, she means to ask if he’ll keep playing volleyball. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I’m on the team now, so I might as well stay.” He murmurs, unsure where his conviction came from. He did miss volleyball, he supposes, in that year he didn’t do it. And he’s made more friends from it. Gotten into a nice routine again, something he might have been missing from school. Maybe it can be a highlight to his future alone. Fish and aquatic snails are very nice, but they won’t keep him company, and as much as he is a loner, he does need some human contact. He could join a neighbourhood team. It’d keep him from getting too bored, anyway. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Konata though, apparently means something different. She stomps her foot – an impressive feat in skates, although she does wobble slightly – and pouts at him.<br/>
“No, not that! I mean, yes, that would, but- are you going to go out with him!” She questions, high pitched and louder than probably intended. Akira does his level best not to fall over.<br/>
“Go out with him?” He repeats, to give himself time to think, to breathe. She nods furiously.<br/>
“Last time he talked about someone this much, they did going out! But then they stopped, and Nii-chan was sad.” She legitimately looks angry at whoever this was, and Akira feels a flare of anger himself; swiftly he quells it. <i>It’s not like that</i>, he has to remind himself. <i>Kindaichi was the last</i>. “So! You better make him happy forever, gettit?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Quit any positive thoughts about his dignity. It is more than underground. He is getting lectured by an 8 year old about a relationship he is not, nor has any plans to be, in. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He opens his mouth and closes it several times. A traitorous part of him sighs and wonders what that would even be like, a relationship with Shirabu, the part that always got him into trouble around Kindaichi, the part he’d sworn he’d killed, buried and gone. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I’m not- I’m not…” He starts weakly. She peers at him intensely, then turns her attention to a shout of her name; Akira is stuck in a creeping realisation he’s been putting off for a long, long time. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>Konata</i>! Mum said go get a drink and also Kindaichi-san needs your help not mine!” Shirabu grabs her under her armpits, and lifts her up, turning swiftly and carrying her away swiftly in the gap between Akira and the wall. Akira, stunned, slides onwards until his skates meet the barrier, and he grabs it reflexively, and looks around; Shirabu is forcefully plonking Konata down in front of Kindaichi, then speeding back to Akira. He cuts in front of several people, including startled children, some of whom fall over backwards, and creaks to a stop in front of him. Akira just stares. He doesn’t really know what happened. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Forget everything she said. Everything.” Shirabu actually looks panicked. “She talks a lot, does Konata. Your skating looked better though!” Shirabu grabs his wrist, and pulls him none-too-gently away from the barrier, breathing hard from his sprint across the rink and back, and starts dragging Akira around the rink. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>His natural instincts of balance cut in and even in his daze, he snaps his free hand out to grab the barrier. It stops Shirabu, who laughs, a hint nervously.<br/>
“I had to stop you, you were winning.” Akira looks up; there is a faint flush on Shirabu’s cheeks. He lets go of Akira’s wrist, and leans against the barrier next to him, looking out over the other skaters.<br/>
“Winning?” Akira echoes.<br/>
“Yeah. I thought I could get something good about you from Kindaichi, but he wasn’t being very helpful.” His gaze flickers to Akira, then away again. “I don’t know what she was saying, but it was probably embarrassing, so forget it.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Forget it. Shirabu is embarrassed, considering how many times it’s been Akira messing up. It doesn’t make any sense. That traitorous part of Akira, smiling and pining. Shirabu, red on his cheeks, not so unaffected. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu. Him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i><i>Oh</i>. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira blinks, and feels- disappointed, somehow. He’d tried so hard – not hard enough, clearly – and it’s just happened again. He’d been doing so well. So well, but then he thinks about the jealousy about Kawanishi, the fact that Shirabu has soulmates at all. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>But he got over Kindaichi, and he’ll get over this, and he’ll be happy with his future, given to him how fate dictated. He decides, right there, that this is as far as it ever goes. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Smiling, biting back a sigh, he turns to Shirabu.<br/>
“Don’t know if I can just forget…” He teases, watching Shirabu bite his lip, nervous. “Might need some payment…” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu sighs.<br/>
“We’re going home after this, but if I get you phở at Yato’s in the New Year, will that cause you guided amnesia?” Shirabu questions. Akira pretends to think about it, and turns. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’s identified what he’s running from. He’s still friends with Kindaichi. There is hope for this situation too. All he has to do is keep quiet, show no signs, and hide it all until it goes, and he and Shirabu can stay as friends, and nothing more. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I guess it might.”</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Knowing actually makes him feel calmer. No less irritated, but calmer. He’s not as stupid as he was at 16, saying it all over the place to Kindaichi, lucky in that he didn’t speak Akira’s language. He won’t say it again, to anyone, not even himself. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He feels peaceful in the remaining time he spends with Kindaichi, evidence of his first success. Peaceful. He has proof he can do this. Once Kindaichi goes home, he sits in his room, watches the snow fall, and reaffirms that he will make this one the last time. The last. He’s perfectly happy alone. If the universe had wanted him to be with someone, it would have given him soulmarks, would have given him soulmates. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The separation is a good thing. Shirabu is busy and doesn’t text quite as much, and Akira makes sure that he evaluates exactly how much he can text, based on prior levels and new knowledge, and comes up with twenty. Twenty texts per day, is his absolute maximum. Fifteen is better, ten is good. He may make exceptions for study-related texts. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Every time he catches himself thinking about it, he studies instead. He has to get a good job to support himself alone. He needs good grades to do that. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>So in his days, he runs, and keeps running. At night, however, he cannot escape his subconscious mind; he dreams. It's nothing more than ghosts, of not being alone; fingers carding through his hair or caressing his face, holding him close, such that he feels safe. It's never anything solid, and he tends to wake up with a sense that something's missing. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It's stupid. Nothing's missing because he never had it. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The ghosts start to take shape, more and more hints left in his waking memory, until his dream eyes open to warm brown ones, and dream lips whisper words he could never admit out loud. Whisper words that he ached to say at the start of things with Kindaichi, and in the haze between wakefulness and sleep, he wants to say them again. Wants someone to listen. Wants someone to say them back to him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>But it’s terrifying. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He starts to think about whether he’s said it. With Kawanishi, Shirabu had said- hadn’t he said something about Akira saying things without words? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>What has he been hearing? Had he been hearing the truth not even Akira had realised? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>And so the holiday wiles itself away in more irritating thoughts of Shirabu, until he gets a text through that asks him if he’s free for phở, seeing as Shirabu has returned and has no food in his flat anyway. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Maybe, Akira wonders, if he lets himself think this is a date, as though it was a test, and he can imagine Shirabu telling him <i>nice but not my type</i>, whether it’ll help. He knows it won’t help to dwell on it. But once the thought has invaded his mind, it refuses to leave him alone. It follows him on the walk to the campus bus stop, haunting him as he gets off the bus in town and walks towards the train station and past it, and echoing as he spots Shirabu, on his phone as always, refusing to wear a hat as always, scarf wrapped around his neck, probably to match the coat he’s wearing, long and a pleasant shade of green. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira, despite all his thoughts on the matter, despite knowing the universe wants him to be alone, wants it to be a date. <i>Really</i> wants it to be a date. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>For one day, why can’t it be? Shirabu doesn’t have to know. Shirabu doesn’t have to know how automatic the smile that springs to his face is. Shirabu doesn’t have to know how much more settled Akira feels with him there. Shirabu doesn’t have to know that his first instinct is to pull him into an embrace. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Here, he decides, for the final time, is where it stops. He will indulge himself this once, mostly because he’s already started, and then he will leave it all behind. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He knows he’s being selfish, really. He wants to not be alone, despite the universe’s signboards, but he can do that adequately with friends, and friends means he doesn’t have to plunge himself into the cold, cold waters of trying to say anything. He doesn’t have to try, doesn’t have to think about the words he says. Wanting is just that, wanting; besides, Shirabu still frequents clubs as far as he knows, and Akira knows he doesn’t go for the music. They don’t fit like that. And why would Shirabu change for him, not even a soulmate? Perhaps Shirabu thinks Akira thinks they might be linked. Perhaps Shirabu thinks he’s ignoring soul connections to Kawanishi. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Perhaps, hopefully, Shirabu doesn’t know a thing. Akira is suddenly a lot more thankful for Kindaichi’s obliviousness, because hiding is a lot easier when no one is looking. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Are you alright?” Shirabu’s voice breaks through his trance; Akira looks up, over steaming bowls of phở, hot and perfect for winter. Shirabu is frowning slightly, chopsticks in one hand, and Akira wants to say it. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I’m fine. Thanks for the food.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’ll get over it.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Controlling himself is tiring, but it’s going to pay off. He sits a prescribed distance away from Shirabu at all times. He doesn’t touch him unnecessarily, high fives only during volleyball games. He keeps to his text limit, and diverts his attention. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu doesn’t seem as happy as he was before. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>But he’d told Akira to forget anything Konata had said before the holidays, and he must have heard enough. Konata must know that her brother is bi, and connected non-existent dots, and he’d been embarrassed about it. Perhaps Shirabu even knew, and meant to discourage him. Maybe he’d worked it out, but he didn’t say anything, and Akira was thankful for that. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It’s just that they’re not as close as they were. But unless Akira gets over this, it’s going to linger on between them, and when Shirabu inevitably gets a partner (or declares where he stands with Kawanishi), Akira doesn’t want to be boiled in jealousy. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>They finally play their game against Nagoya U that Akira has been somewhat dreading. Oikawa doesn’t look surprised to see him on the court, shifting uncomfortably because Shirabu is standing close to him and Akira can’t stand the way he feels, wanting to lean on him and knowing, knowing he can’t, because he’s decided. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu’s not exactly shy. Shirabu also found him in an… alternative, club, and must know. He’d said as much. It wouldn’t take much to connect dots between that and Akira’s weird behaviour. He would have said something if it had been good; the lack of anything shows that he doesn’t feel that way, not towards Akira, and Akira will reward his patience with losing those feelings. He’s done it before, he’ll do it again, and this time, it’ll be the last time. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He will burn that part of him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Oikawa doesn’t take long to talk to him.<br/>
“Kunimi-chan~!” He sings across the net while they wait for the game to begin. “Nice to see you again, we’ll chat after the game, alright?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira can do little else but nod; he can feel, the entire time, Oikawa’s eyes on him (and the rest of the team, though) and to distract himself, he puts more effort than usual into the game. It’s one of the heats, and while Nagoya have already qualified for the knock-out stages, Akira’s team haven’t, so in theory, this game means more to them than to Oikawa. But Akira knows that he would never throw a game, his pride too much to do that, and he wants to test them to breaking point, see if he can learn anything else about them. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It’s unnerving in exactly the way Akira knew it would be, the precise same gaze that divined their strengths and weaknesses when they were on a team together. Except this time, it’s to exploit the weaknesses, to fight against their strengths, and Oikawa already knows how Shirabu can get really frustrated after a while, knows Inuoka gets a little over-excited, knows Akira won’t necessarily kill himself to get one point. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira fights in the only way he can, by being unpredictable. As soon as Oikawa learns something, he changes it, or tries at least; if he can overwhelm Oikawa with choices, it makes it slower and slower to make one decision, and if they can slow Oikawa down, they have half a chance. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>They lose the first set, but Akira is learning what Oikawa knows, what he expects. As much as Oikawa is watching him, Akira is watching him back. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>They win the second, just, and Shirabu grins at him wildly, so ecstatic to have levelled the score; Akira swears his world reduces down to nothing for the briefest second, and he looks away to keep himself steady, and straight into Oikawa’s eyes. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Oikawa is smirking. Oikawa knows. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It’s not the end of the world, he knows that. But. If Oikawa has worked it out from being on court with him for an hour or so, who else has? Who else quietly knows what Akira wants from Shirabu? Would they ever believe him if he said he didn’t? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It makes him lose his focus, Oikawa’s smirk present in his mind throughout the remaining two sets, and he can’t pull himself together enough to do it, not when Shirabu is right there and getting rightfully annoyed at him, not when Oikawa is targeting him because he’s sensed weakness. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira benches himself to save the team further embarrassment. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu approaches him immediately afterwards; Akira avoids his gaze, avoids it all the way to the locker room. Shirabu growls at him; Ogata tries to intervene, but Akira fends him off with a thankful look. This is his fault. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“What was that out there?” Shirabu demands. Akira shrugs. How pathetic is it to say that he fell to Oikawa’s tactics, because he’s so scared of saying something? “No, Kunimi, what was that? You gave up. We could have won that, you were going really well, and then you just gave up!” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The rest of the team shift uncomfortably. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Oikawa was learning our weaknesses.” He murmurs, wanting them all to leave, so he can get changed and run. “Sorry, Shirabu.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Sorry?” Shirabu echoes, incensed. He steps closer, and again, until he’s looking up at Akira from inches away. “That’s all you can say? We could have won. We could have been in the knockout stages, Kunimi. Now we’re not.” It’s true that they are no longer in the tournament now; Akira got lost in the middle and forgot. Now he feels really bad, because his stupid emotions have lost Shirabu a chance at going any further. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Shirabu-” Inuoka starts, cut off by a vicious glare.<br/>
“No! You were fighting, I could tell! We all were! And you,” He points viciously right at the centre of Akira’s chest, feeling more like a knife than it has any right to. “You know Oikawa and his mind games. You know that better than anyone here. You were doing fine, and then you weren’t. You stopped listening to me, to us, and started listening to him, telling you you couldn’t win against him. What changed?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Whether Shirabu knows is debatable at this point. But Akira can’t explain, not to him, nor the rest of the team, why he ran away. Why he gave up, because the idea of Oikawa knowing, it shouldn’t affect him as much as it does, but it does, and Akira wants to get as far away from the gym as possible, and reduce the chance of seeing Oikawa again. He doesn’t want to go to any party, doesn’t want to do anything but go to sleep. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“It’s different seeing it first hand and being subjected to it, Shirabu.” He murmurs quietly, turning away. “I’ve never played against him before.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Bullshit.” Shirabu says, and Akira stops. “You have. Anyway, you’ve seen him do it before. You should know he was going to. I can’t fight on my own, and believe me, I hate losing to that obnoxious prick.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Do you want me to retire?” Akira asks, sliding his gaze back towards Shirabu, seeing the way his eyes widen slightly. “What do you want me to do? I can’t change that result. If I could, I would have done it already.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu stares at him, biting his lip. He’s so annoyed. Annoyed at Akira too, and reasonably. It’s not all his fault, but he was their best chance at offence against Oikawa particularly, and he lost his way.<br/>
“I want you to admit you ran away.” He says. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I ran away, Shirabu.” He returns, quietly. “I gave up. I shouldn’t have.”<br/>
“And I want you to promise me you won’t do it again.” Shirabu adds, the silence in the locker room intense around them, no one knowing what to do or say. Everyone is still, watching Akira admit his mistakes. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I promise I won’t run away again.” He nigh on whispers, feeling a wave of defeat crash down on him. He could have fought. He should have fought.<br/>
“In anything.” Shirabu states firmly. “No one is going to just give you anything. Decide what you want and fight for it. Victory doesn’t come to those who watch, and wait.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He turns away from Akira, who gets an impending sense that they might not have just been talking about the game after all.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He thinks he’s gotten away with it, right up until he’s actually leaving the gym, about to trudge home in the cool spring weather. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Kunimi-chan! Didn’t I say we’d talk after?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He stops mid-stride, recognising the futility of running at this point.<br/>
“Oikawa-san.” He murmurs in greeting, turning and bowing just slightly. Oikawa grins, and Akira would like to say it wasn’t malicious, but it certainly doesn’t feel entirely pleasant. “You’ve improved.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Why thank you. You didn’t show me your skills in that game.” He states blithely, and throws an arm around Akira’s shoulders. Akira knows better than to shrug him off, the grip of Oikawa’s hand just on the right side of threatening as he guides Akira back onto campus. Probably towards the café. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I did not, Oikawa-san.” Oikawa sighs dramatically, and tugs Akira further, past some puzzled students. Akira hopes Shirabu is long gone, and doesn’t see this. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira can appreciate Oikawa’s skill as a player; he’d have to be blind not to. But he’s never been that keen on Oikawa the person; too calculating, too intelligent to really get on with. It had been good to be on the same team as him, but it equally made Akira feel paper-thin, like all his secrets were written so evidently, and Oikawa could see them without much thought. He didn’t like the thought of anyone holding that power; if anyone would have known about his feelings regarding Kindaichi, it would be Oikawa. He’d ignored this, mostly because nothing had ever been said, but the feeling of him this close and this knowledgeable, it crawls across Akira’s skin in the most unpleasant way. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He pulls Akira into the café, waltzes right past the desk without even the pretence of getting a coffee. The cashier, whom Akira vaguely recognises from around campus, glares at them both. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“So, Shiratorizawa-setter-kun, hm?” Oikawa says once he’s settled. Akira remains perched on the edge of the seat, back straight and ready to run, even though he knows that’s useless, and stupid. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“It is nothing, Oikawa-san.” Feigning ignorance will not work, Akira knows; passing it off as unimportant is more likely to work. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“It didn’t seem like nothing, Kunimi-chan.” He smiles pleasantly. It sends a chill down Akira’s spine. “Come on, you can talk to Oikawa-senpai about it!” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Talking is his last option. He wishes he had the Oikawa Botheration Brigade number as speed-dial – Iwaizumi would be able to intervene where Akira is helpless. He wonders if calling Shirabu would help, but it wouldn’t, and he won’t defend Akira right now. Maybe Inuoka… </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>But then, does he really want to subject anyone else to Oikawa needlessly? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Won’t your team be leaving without you?” He asks instead. Oikawa waves a hand, as if physically brushing it off.<br/>
“I’m going to see Iwa-chan after this, so I’m making my own way home. How thoughtful though, Kunimi-chan.” He sits back in the chair, eyes never leaving Akira. “I just like to solve my precious kouhai’s problems.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“There is no problem, Oikawa-san.” He will ignore everything else. “I lost my focus, and we lost as a result.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Oh.” Oikawa says, slightly on the back foot, but he recovers with unerring speed. “The same ‘no problem’ as with Kindaichi-kun? I see that went out the window.” He remarks calmly. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira takes a moment to breathe. He really didn’t want confirmation of him knowing. Secrets were supposed to be secrets, but he guesses as long as Kindaichi never knows, it might be permissible.<br/>
“I am friends with Kindaichi, and Shirabu.”<br/>
“But you want more.” Oikawa comments.<br/>
“No.” Akira snaps. “You’re wrong. Oikawa-san.” He looks up, bordering on glaring at Oikawa. “I would appreciate if you would not interfere with any problems you would perceive me as having.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Oikawa smiles, somewhat nostalgically.<br/>
“Ah, Kunimi-chan. I’m not wrong though, am I? You might wish I was. Soulmates are such trouble, aren’t they?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It throws Akira, because he hadn’t mentioned it.<br/>
“When did you know? Did you hide it from us? Were you ashamed of having a soulmate from Shiratorizawa? Or just male soulmates?” Oikawa goes on to say, and realisation dawns on Akira slowly, until he feels like laughing. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Oikawa thinks he’s linked to Shirabu. Thinks he’s linked to Kindaichi. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He knows. But he doesn’t <i>know</i>. It’s a relief, the remnants of secrets still hidden; Oikawa has miscalculated for once. He may be right about the problem, but not about why it exists. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Why are you smiling, Kunimi-chan?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He hadn’t noticed he was. He doesn’t stop himself. Two can play at mind-games.<br/>
“I thought it wasn’t obvious, but perhaps it was.” He murmurs, sighing for effect. “Soulmates really are trouble.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Oikawa goes for it, hook line and sinker. Akira manages to get him talking about his various soulmarks, and carefully spins the conversation so that it doesn’t come back to him – easy enough with Oikawa, if you can get him to keep speaking about himself. Annoying, and boring, but it works, and Akira gets out of there without having to admit he actually doesn’t have any marks, and that that’s the problem. In a way, it would be so much easier if Shirabu was his soulmate, because he’d consider that he might have a chance.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu sulks and is rightfully irritated with Akira for a week or so, before they both sweep it under the mat – more because they are forced to by exams, and impending coursework deadlines. The semester tumbles into a ball of stress and word counts and matrices and studying, Akira hates it, holes himself up in the library or his room and gets dragged out occasionally by Toda or Matsuka. Kawasaki invites him to play her rock band games, and once, he agrees; he swiftly finds himself trying to master one of the songs. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It ends up, at seven in the morning, with him still trying to master it on Expert mode, with Kawasaki asleep behind him, lulled to unconsciousness by the dulcet tones of Enter Sandman for the hundredth time. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Inuoka swings by to ask for more maths tuition. Akira has lost count of how many times he’s heard the song by now, but he can’t get higher than a 300 note streak. He’s going to try the drums next. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Kunimi, you look awful.” He ventures warily, once Akira has finished that play-through. 400 note streak. He’s wavering on his feet, and he’s pretty sure he hasn’t eaten in over 12 hours. Kawasaki is still passed out behind him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Once more. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I’m playing it again.” He murmurs, and flicks through the menu screens with the ease of practice. His vision might be going weird at the edges, but he can see coloured buttons and press the corresponding one. It’s enough. He’ll master this. Shirabu told him not to run away. He’s not running away.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’s running away from everything else by not running away from this. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Kunimi-” Inuoka says, but the song starts and Akira tunes him out. If he can get this, he can pass his exams. If he can master one song on a game, on a pretend guitar, he can definitely pass his exams. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It is the illogical madness of insomnia, he knows, but he barely even listens to the song anymore, turned down low in some vague consideration to his housemates; Toda had yelled at him at two to shut up, or at least not bother her with more Metallica. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira supposes there is some irony in not sleeping while trying to master a song about the Sandman and sleep. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He thinks it’s been another two goes, maybe three, when someone shakes him in the middle of the song. He shakes them off, thrown off his streak, but they wrestle the controller out of his hands and exit the game. He blinks, finding Shirabu and Inuoka, both with raised eyebrows. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Wow, Kunimi. I think you need sleep.” Inuoka mutters.<br/>
“Also, can you leave your poor flatmate alone?” Shirabu adds, apparently embarrassed for him, for barging into her room. Akira was invited. He just hadn’t been invited to leave, yet. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I was just…” Akira yawns. He flaps a hand to get them to let him through. “Bathroom.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Oh my god.” He hears Shirabu sigh behind him. “How is he still alive?”<br/>
“Magic!” Akira calls, and leaves it at that.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>They jointly decide that he needs sunlight and fresh air, so although he’s yawning every three seconds and stumbling, and deciding he needs to get back to revision because his first exam is less than a week away (why didn’t he think of that he regrets every button he pressed on that game now), Inuoka and Shirabu drag him onto campus. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Who pulls an all-nighter to play Rock Band?” Shirabu seems disbelieving. “I thought you liked sleep too much to ever pull one of those.”<br/>
“I’m impressed! I’d be asleep at midnight if I even tried!” Inuoka enthuses. “And that score was really high!” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu sends Inuoka a sideways glance, implying it’s not a feat to be impressed by.<br/>
“Have you never even tried to stay up? And it was a high score because this idiot <i>stayed up all night on one song</i>.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Six hundred note streak. I’m gonna try the drums next.” Akira murmurs. Shirabu shoots him a worried look, as he sips at an iced coffee. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Not until after exams! Kunimi, when did you even start?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira considers it for a long moment.<br/>
“Singing at ten until midnight. Drums from midnight until one. Then I decided I’d master Enter Sandman on guitar. It seemed cool.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu buries his face in his hands. Inuoka just looks impressed.<br/>
“Please tell me you didn’t spend seven hours on one song, on repeat.” Shirabu groans, sounding like he already knows the answer.<br/>
“No.” Akira intones indignantly. “I played another one, but I didn’t get any notes, so I went back.”<br/>
“Wow.” Inuoka grins. “You’ve gotta teach me! That’s way more interesting than maths, anyway!” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“No!” Shirabu snaps at both of them. “Exams! Remember those! Slightly important. We are <i>studying</i>. You are both banned from Rock Band. It’s not even yours, Kunimi!” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He has a point. His face is also blurry. Akira curls his legs under him, folding all six feet of him into the comfortable chair, curled around his iced coffee and smiling faintly. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Hmm, but Kawasaki said I could play it…” He mumbles. He finds his leg being prodded harshly, once, and then again when he doesn’t shift.<br/>
“Not until seven in the morning, she didn’t. I doubt it, anyway. Come on. We’re going on a run. And then we’re studying. Drink your coffee.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira yawns widely, and takes another sip. Sounds like a pain.<br/>
“You go, I’m gonna stay here…”<br/>
“Aww, man! Come on, Kunimi, running will wake you up!” Inuoka says brightly. “Plus, I need maths lessons if I’m going to pass all my finals!” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Two plus two?” He mutters. Inuoka replies with four in a puzzled voice. Akira grins at him, closing his eyes. “There you go. Maths tuition.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>That earns him a rather vicious jab in the leg, but he doesn’t open his eyes, just curling up more into the chair. If he can stay still enough, exams will go away. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He guesses he’s pretty stressed at the moment. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Kunimiiii!” Inuoka whines. “I need this, I’m gonna fail! I’ll make you anything you want!” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Ignoring Shirabu’s mutter that he’ll become spoilt if he keeps doing that, Akira opens one eye.<br/>
“Anything?” He questions, and gets a nod. He thinks about it for a moment. “Salted caramel muffins.” He states, takes a sip of coffee, and drops his head back down, intending to sleep. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He finds himself hauled up out of his seat, the coffee tumbling from his hands, only to be caught by Inuoka; too close. Akira hasn’t had enough sleep to deal with this. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Perhaps part of why he was on Rock Band, and not sleeping. His dreams refused to leave him be to his resolution of a future alone, and instead of dreaming of big fish tanks and watching snails, he dreams of Shirabu in situations so domestic it actually hurts. It physically hurts when he wakes up, an ache in his chest that makes him feel like he can barely breathe (never this bad before what’s wrong what’s changed-) like the very air is heavy around him. Alongside exams and revision and impending doom and summer without Shirabu both not arriving fast enough and coming too soon, he couldn’t stand it. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Uh…” He groans eloquently. Shirabu smirks.<br/>
“We,” he announces with a finality that leaves Akira absolutely no room to back out. “Are going on a run. If you are still alive at the end of it, Inuoka can make you some salted caramel muffins.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Yay! Wait, he needs to be alive to teach me maths!” Inuoka cries.<br/>
“I need to be alive to teach him maths.” Akira echoes, nodding, because he doesn’t want to die, really. He just wants to run away from life for a while. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu grins altogether too pleasantly.<br/>
“Well, start running, and we’ll see if you can stay alive then.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Never mind keeping up with Iwaizumi in Aoba Johsai. Keeping up with Inuoka and Shirabu – that will make him die.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He survives (somehow) and he even manages to teach Inuoka some maths (heavily guided by Shirabu, who concedes that Akira is better than him at maths, but not while totally sleep deprived) before Inuoka goes off in a different direction, and Shirabu walks some of the way to his flat; his own flat is on the way, and he’s always wondering why Akira chose to live so far away, and yet refuses to get a bike. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>(It gave him some exercise, in first year. And the rent is cheap. Now, he just likes his flatmates, although the distance is a pain if he forgets something)</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Hey.”<br/>
Akira stumbles to a stop at the sudden break in the silence, and glances over at Shirabu. He’s getting a worried look, and he raises an eyebrow.<br/>
“Yeah?” He replies, because Shirabu seems to have stopped talking, and he doesn’t really get it. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Are you alright? Really?” Shirabu questions after another moment. “You’re even paler than usual.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs.<br/>
“I’m fine. Aside from your demon run.” Except it had woken him up, serving its purpose quite adequately. He’d not moved very much since the start of revision, so he guesses it was probably a good thing, if sadistic. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“You needed some exercise, Kunimi. You can’t go from twice weekly to nothing.” He states automatically, then frowns. “It’s not like you to not sleep, though.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira sighs. He’s going to miss Shirabu over the break, and it’s going to annoy him.<br/>
“Bad day. Night.” He corrects. He has the urge to tell Shirabu, or hug him. He can’t actually tell which is the worse thing. He needs to sleep. “I’m going.” He remarks, and steps backwards. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“If you feel bad-” Shirabu starts, considers it, then continues. “If you need to talk to someone, you can text me. Or phone.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It’s a nice offer, if only his problems weren’t directly related to Shirabu and his own stance on that. Talking to Shirabu probably would help: it’s also terrifying, and Akira does not ever want to talk about it. Once, on the return from a club, was enough for him. Nobody else needs to know. It will never be important to anyone else, provided he gets over this without doing anything stupid. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Thanks.” He says, and nods. Shirabu looks like he wants to say something else; Akira turns and leaves with a wave. In his tired state, he’s not sure what he’s going to say.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira's eyes snap open as if from a nightmare. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He remembers. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He's not one for melodrama, but he thinks that it's probably a good thing if he never sees Shirabu ever again in his lifetime, so he doesn't have to explain and Shirabu doesn't have to deal with him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Toda finds him sitting in the kitchen staring at a cold cup of tea he never planned on drinking. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"What's up with you." She intones grumpily, heading to the coffee machine. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"I kissed him." He murmurs at the cup of tea. It does not spring forward to provide any wisdom on how to fix his life. Unfortunately. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"You kissed who?" She echoes, punching a code into the coffee machine, and then pauses. "Wait. <i>Him</i>?" She turns to look at him. He's too shaken to really process it. It only just qualifies as a conversation. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Why did I do that."<br/>
"That's a very good question, Akira. Why did you do that. I'm kinda interested." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Why <i>did</i> he do that? He'd finished his exams, and he didn't think they'd gone too badly. Surfing on a wave of relief, he'd acquiesced to Matsuka's offer to join him at a party in the middle of university a day or so later, and he found out Shirabu was going... </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>But that hadn't been why. He'd not been planning on it. Not been planning on anything. Maybe dancing if he could be bothered, and enough cocktails to get him pleasantly buzzed, but still functioning... </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He'd lost Matsuka to the crowd, and with little else to do, he'd gotten a drink. They had some new ones at the campus bar, and he was fed up of being stressed, fed up of thinking, so he'd bought one, then two, then three... </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Then Shirabu had found him, dancing by himself, which might also account for the heavy nauseous feeling he currently has. Shirabu had found him, and Shirabu himself hadn't exactly been sober; they'd won a match against a neighbourhood team a few days before, and held the celebrations until after everyone’s exams... </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira doesn't remember much apart from practically throwing himself at Shirabu, giggling and incoherent he's sure, and mashing their faces together. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Loneliness? Stress? The fact that he's never kissed anyone before and wondered what it was like? The unusually high levels of alcohol in his blood? The constant dreams about Shirabu? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He thinks he retained just enough sense to back off, and unlike the first time they met, had lost Shirabu in the crowd. Must have stumbled back to the flat somehow, and collapsed in bed, and gone to sleep, in the same clothes as he'd gone out in. The same clothes he was still in because changing was hardly a priority when he needed to work out if he had actually kissed Shirabu, or whether it had been another dream. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The utter <i>shame</i>. He resisted any urge he had towards Kindaichi until that had gone, why couldn't this go the same? Not to mention Shirabu had Kawanishi, even if they didn't seem very together, who would want Akira, dull quiet and lazy, who apparently got drunk and did very, very stupid things while at it. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He cannot show his face in public again. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He repeats this sentiment out loud. He's not being melodramatic. He forced himself on the only close friend he has here, kissed him (probably awfully, too, the <i>horror</i>) and ran away without apologising, without giving Shirabu any chance to rebuke him, what has he done- </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Is this Shirabu? I'm pretty sure he's not going to be upset." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira glances up. He'd forgotten, in his meltdown, that Toda was even there. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Wait how do you know?" He's not in the right mind to tell her she's wrong. It doesn't even occur to him. She snorts loudly, sipping her coffee. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Shirabu is kind of a BNOC. Big Name on Campus." She remarks, at his look of utter confusion. "People noticed when he started hanging out with an unknown, hapless first year. That, and he's been over for you a few times." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Wait he has? When?" Akira is very close to panic. He didn't remember telling Shirabu where he lived, because Shirabu's flat was closer to campus, and way nicer than Akira's. Also, he'd been mildly afraid that Shirabu would meet Hayami and want to sweep her off her feet. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He has been over though, he remembers now. Why. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"He came over to pick you up a few times. You don’t remember? And then he came over yesterday, but I think he beat you back. Actually, he's still asleep on the sofa." She waves her hand over to the sofa corner, and Akira feels like his bones creak as he turns. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Sure enough, under a blanket, he can see a tuft of that exact shade of blond hair, his feet poking out the other end (it's kind of cute- <i>no</i>). Akira's only saving grace is that he's still asleep. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>But he's been in the same room as Shirabu for a good half an hour and not noticed. He's been this close to Shirabu the whole time he's been asleep, why, why- </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He has to move out. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He mutters this out loud. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Hell no." Toda barks. "No, nope. The whole campus can see your crush on him, and what kind of rejection is it to sleep over at your house the whole night? Man up, Akira!" </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"You don't understand, Kotomi! I was so drunk! I didn't know what I was doing! Except I did, so it's worse!" He is panicking now. Wildly so. "We don't match, I'm just- me, why would?!" He can't actually speak. He puts his hands on his face and groans. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Can he transfer for third year? Maybe if he just takes a year out, hides with Kindaichi – no, they'd both kick him out. A new country. He's not great at English, but he can learn it all again, right? Maybe someone would want to hire someone generally calm with Japanese language skills and half a degree. He could move to Hokkaido, nobody would find him there- </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Akira you're breathing way fast. Chill." Toda says, sardonic, and goes to move out the room. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira is clutching her arm before he quite realises he's doing it. Scratch the hangover, he's an awful mix of hungover and still drunk.<br/>
"You have to help me!" He's pretty sure he looks mad. "Please?" </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>She laughs, long and boisterous, and glances over to one side. The sofa side.<br/>
"Shirabu-san, can you deal with this mess please?" </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"'pose so..." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira freezes. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>If this was a match, what would he do? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Well, for a start, he'd have five other players to cover for him, and right now he has Toda, leaving the room, and Shirabu. Also, this doesn't resemble any situation close to one that he's ever faced in a match. There must be something he can- </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Are you alright?" </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He's kneeling on the floor, staring into space, his hands raised from where Toda shook him off. He's not alright. He fell again and this time he said it, not with words but equally unmistakable. He's pretty sure throwing yourself at someone counts as saying it, if very crudely. Kindaichi never knew. Shirabu knows. <i>Shirabu knows</i>. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira wants to cry. Wants to go back to bed and pretend it was all a dream. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Maybe if he just curls up on the floor here, he'll appease some god above, and they'll smite him into non-existence as a blessing. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>A small part of him thinks he's overreacting, but that's the no man's land between his drunk mind and his hungover one, and both yell louder than it. He absolutely cannot face Shirabu right now. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Are you still drunk? How much did you have?" </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He doesn't look towards the voice. He doesn't dare. If he is still drunk, Shirabu is not safe. It's not safe to be around him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Kunimi?" Shirabu's face fills his vision.<br/>
Akira squawks and scrambles backwards. Backwards until his back hits the sofa. Shirabu raises an eyebrow at him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"I shouldn't!" He yells. "Sorry!" </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu actually laughs. He's enjoying this, his terror, his panic. But then, Shirabu has a lot of friends, whereas Akira has him, Kindaichi and Toé. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Do I look like I'm annoyed, Kunimi?" Akira nods frantically. "If you actually looked? You know, with your eyes?" </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He tries, but he's panicking. Worse than when that dog cornered and barked at him when he was six. He really, really doesn't know what to do or how to get away. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He tries to express even half of that, but it ends up as a garbled croak. Shirabu rolls his eyes. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Well, I've checked that you're okay. You're breathing, at least. If a little too much." Shirabu seems to consider him. "And you haven't actually run away yet." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He's not had the chance.<br/>
"Here's what's going to happen. Okay? Okay. You are going to drink lots of water, eat some plain rice, and sober up, and stop panicking. I'm going to go home, and get changed and shower. Then I will come back, and we are going to talk about this." Shirabu intones firmly, no room for argument. Akira nods shakily. "In case you were wondering, yes, I will be able to find you if you run off. I have my ways." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>That threat in place, he stands up, and Akira only belatedly realises that he left his wallet on the sofa. Akira presses himself as far into the sofa as he possibly can, eyes wide and still not sure if he's breathing right. Shirabu smirks at him, and ruffles his hair when he reaches across to get his stuff. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"You can probably be sure at least half the scenarios you're thinking about? Won't happen. Calm down, Akira." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>With that, Shirabu is gone. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>How the hell is he meant to calm down?!</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He's not calmer when there is a knock on the door. His heart feels like it's leapt out of his chest, and he hopes, prays it's another false alarm, because first time it was Kawasaki going out with her friends, and then it was Matsuka stumbling back. Toda has taken it upon herself to trap him in the flat, sitting in the kitchen and glaring menacingly at him when he walked past to go out. He promptly did an about-face and took a shower instead, trying not to think. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>But it is not false this time, and Toda yells through the flat.<br/>
"Oi Akira!" </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He takes stock of the situation, best he can. He's unlikely to drop dead in the next three seconds, because he hadn't done so yet. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Or maybe he is feeling a little calmer, because the part that says he's overreacting is louder, and he listens this time. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu is bi, at least. He's initiated the kissing of guys many times, so that aspect is not a problem. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>But it’s Akira. They don’t match. Akira knew that, knows about Kawanishi, and it just seems logical, and the universe wants him alone, doesn’t it? Then why does it curse him with this, with these feelings? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He sidles out of his room, and Toda smiles condescendingly at him when he comes into view. Akira avoids looking at Shirabu.<br/>
“There you are. I knew you wouldn’t crawl out the window.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Why hadn’t he considered that?<br/>
Probably because they’re three stories up and Akira likes his legs unbroken. There is a chance he can escape from Shirabu, or somehow survive unscathed. A three story drop is not going to end well, ever. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Are you my mother or something?” He mutters back, sure he’s pouting somewhat and disliking the way he is, the way he feels. Stupid, mainly. Still hungover.<br/>
“Yeah, until you can act like a human being about this.” She returns, and sighs. She turns to Shirabu. “Matsuka and Yumi are out, so have the kitchen.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira accepts his defeat, and walks into the kitchen without prompting.<br/>
“Drink?” He offers to the room at large; Toda declines before she leaves, while Shirabu murmurs, in a somewhat croaky voice, that he’d like a tea. Akira sets to making it, perhaps being a little more careful with the placement of everything than he normally would, and the process, stretching it out-</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Until he can’t anymore, he’s left with two cups of tea, and has to hand one to Shirabu. Has to approach Shirabu. He feels a lot like dying. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He finally looks at Shirabu as he hands it over; those familiar eyes are tired, and pinched in worry. Akira hates that he’s caused that, and why? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Because he was stupid. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Sorry.” He mumbles, retreating to one of the other seats at the table. “I shouldn’t have done it.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira stares at the grain of the wood in the cheap table, the way it swirls and isn’t totally flat, remembers Toda getting annoyed whenever her woollen sweaters would get stuck on it. The mark where one of Matsuka’s friends spilt a Coke. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Perhaps not,” Shirabu muses after a long while.<br/>
“Don’t suppose you could just forget that it happened?” Akira ventures, holding his mug tightly. He doesn’t know what he wants from that question. He wants Shirabu to forget. He wants Shirabu to tell him it’s fine. He wants Shirabu to want. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“What if I don’t want to?”<br/>
Akira looks up. Shirabu is staring at him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“What.” He whispers. It can’t be… It could. Shirabu might not want anything to do with someone who drunkenly kisses people. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I don’t want to forget it, really…” Shirabu reiterates. “What I want is to know why.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Why. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Everything Akira is running from is in that question. Months of unknowing denial, and then months of denying himself the chance. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I was drunk? Really drunk?” Akira asks as much as says. “I guess I- I didn’t think about it.”<br/>
“Ah, but you did. You told Toda-san you did.” Shirabu points out. “Also, alcohol reduces your inhibitions, it doesn’t really introduce anything new.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu leaves the implication hanging in the air, and Akira wants to refute it. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Gritting his teeth, he stares back down at his tea. He doesn’t even want it. He doesn’t want any of this, but he does, and that’s the problem. But the terror gets to him every time, and he’ll back away like he always does. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“We don’t match.” He spits, not looking up.<br/>
“How do you know?” Shirabu asks innocently. Akira does look up at that; he looks puzzled, which he guesses makes sense. It’s a bit left field, but it matters. As far as relationships, friendships, anything goes, the world would consider Akira a loose cannon, but apparently, he’s unable to accept that he should just be alone. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I don’t match anyone, Shirabu. I don’t have any marks.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu’s eyes widen.<br/>
“Really? How come you never said?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Because he hates the fact. Because he likes people and he shouldn’t. Because he’s destined to be alone and he’s afraid of that, because he’s afraid people won’t stick with an unlinked person. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“What was the point?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu watches him for a while, clearly thinking. His face flits through various emotions, but lands on determined. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Why did you kiss me?” He asks again. And again when Akira remains mute, in fear, in shock. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I don’t know.” He croaks, eventually. But it’s a lie, and they both know it. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Bullshit. Why can’t you just tell me? Be honest.” Shirabu dares him, and Akira scowls down at the table.<br/>
“Because I wanted to. Doesn’t change that I shouldn’t have.”<br/>
“You wanted to?” Shirabu echoes. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira laughs. He presses a hand to his face, red from embarrassment, and laughs harshly.<br/>
“It’s so <i>dumb</i>.” He thinks of Kindaichi, of resisting for at least two years, of falling away from that stupidity. Why couldn’t he have just done the same again? Why is everything so difficult when it comes to Shirabu? “Unlinked people shouldn’t like anyone. Isn’t that how it’s meant to work?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>What</i>.” Shirabu breathes, but Akira doesn’t dare look up. His eyes burn just slightly, so he closes them tight, presses his fingers into his scalp. “Ak- Ku- What.” Shirabu stumbles over his words. “Is that- you fucking idiot.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira blinks his eyes open to stare through his fingers. Shirabu looks legitimately pissed off, storm clouds brewing.<br/>
“Have you told yourself you’ll never get anyone, or shouldn’t, because you don’t have any marks on your skin?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira doesn’t nod, but his silence is just as incriminating. Shirabu actually growls.<br/>
“You fucking idiot. You- oh my god.”<br/>
“Go on, tell me that’s unreasonable, <i>Shirabu</i>. Everyone else values them so much, it’s only logical!” Akira spits back. He doesn’t know why Shirabu is suddenly insulting him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Logical? Feelings aren’t logical! Are you telling me you told yourself you couldn’t get with <i>me</i> because <i>we do not match</i>?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I was trying to keep things the same!” Akira shoots back. “Why are you even worried about this?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Are you telling me you might have actually pursued this if you had thought we were linked? Or if no one was linked at all?” Shirabu stands up. “Are you saying you tried to ignore it because of some stupid marks on my skin?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“It worked with Kindaichi!” He snaps, then realises it’s too much information. He wasn’t ever supposed to tell anyone that.<br/>
“You’ve done this before?” Shirabu sounds angry about it, it just doesn’t make any sense at all. He rounds the table, nigh on slaps his hands around Akira’s face to make him look up and at him. “I don’t care. I have been thinking for months, <i>months</i>, every day, that you might just say something, and you’ve been holding it all back for some stupid reason like that?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He can’t speak. Shirabu looks so intense, so angry, so upset. Akira can do nothing but stare at him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I thought that maybe, if you liked me, you’d have said something. I gave you enough hints, Akira. And then you go and kiss me. I thought we might be getting somewhere, but you run away again and then the first thing you do is apologise?” Shirabu makes a very irritated noise, eyes flitting around the kitchen, and tilting Akira’s head back just a little further. It’s kind of uncomfortable, but Akira can barely even think right now. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i><i>Hints</i>? Those were hints? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Do you regret it?” Shirabu asks of him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>By all accounts, he probably should. He’s getting lectured in his own kitchen about a drunken mistake he made, and being told everything he’s thought about soulmates and soulmarks is wrong, mostly just because Shirabu doesn’t think the same. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>But all things considered, he doesn’t think he actually regrets it. He shakes his head slightly, the best he can in the vice-like grip. Shirabu’s thumbs are on his cheekbones, calloused and rough, his fingers in his hair, it’s a little different to the gentle touches he feels in his dreams. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Would you do it again? Sober?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira thinks about it. Would he? He’s wanted to for a while, and there have been several times where he’s really wanted to. He doesn’t remember much about last night. If this is his only chance to kiss someone, to kiss Shirabu, then yeah, he’d probably do it again. He’s curious, and Shirabu is right there. He’d definitely do it if there weren’t any consequences; if he could have made people forget what he’d done straight after he’d done it, he’d have kissed Kindaichi. He probably would have done a lot of things if he could do that. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He thinks of his dreams, wherein he lives with Shirabu, wakes up with his nose in his hair, curled around him; gets woken up by a light kiss to his forehead, he’ll watch TV with his head in Shirabu’s lap, content and quiet and domestic. He knows he’s blushing when he nods, unable to find his voice. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’s already messed things up. It can’t get much worse, he doesn’t think. Shirabu smiles, all the way up to his eyes, and shifts his hands, thumbs dragging over his cheekbones, Akira’s face on fire now he’s sure, Shirabu is close, so close… </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Then would you mind if I kissed you now?” Shirabu whispers, hope alight in his eyes, and Akira is acutely aware of his heart drumming in his ears, he swallows thickly, wonders when his dreams got so lucid, and shakes his head just slightly. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira doesn’t know what to do with himself. It is evident from the ease with which Shirabu kisses him that he’s done it before, many, many times. Akira forgets how to breathe, and then forgets everything else, apart from how much he wanted this before. He didn’t even realise, a heady rush of Shirabu, so close to him, his scent so close, his lips on Akira’s, more than any of his dreams. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He wants time to stop. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He doesn’t want to deal with anything else, doesn’t want to deal with anything further than Shirabu kissing him, fingers in his hair, his knees pressing against Akira’s where he’s leant over him, and the unquantifiable rush of emotions in his chest, like getting caught while ice skating, like eating phở with him, studying with him, just being with Shirabu that makes Akira feel like everything is okay and the lack of marks means nothing. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira’s never been that lucky. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The pressure leaves his lips, and his eyes flutter open to the feel of air on his face. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu is looking at him, and Akira thinks, maybe, probably, he just said it, again. And Shirabu got the message, loud and clear.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu doesn’t linger too close to him though, sighing as he realises something, and his hands drop from Akira’s face, arms dropping by his sides, and Akira feels the warmth slowly chill into something far more familiar and unpleasant. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Who would you tell?” Shirabu asks; Akira must look confused enough that he elaborates. “If we were dating.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira opens his mouth, and closes it again. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Toda?” He ventures, because she basically already knows, particularly if she’s been listening in like, he suspects, she probably has. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu doesn’t look too impressed. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Anyone else? Does anyone else even know about you?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Considering all he’s done to keep <i>it</i> quiet, possibly more people than he’d like. But he also guesses that’s not the question, and he looks away. He hates saying things, especially unnecessary things, and until twenty four hours ago, it wasn’t supposed to have any impact on anyone else’s life. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’s going to lose this again, he can tell. So close, and yet he’ll throw it away because he doesn’t have the courage to tell people about something that could make him happy. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“What do you want, Akira?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>A quiet life, with Shirabu in it. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>But Shirabu wouldn’t want that, and he’s not a prize, he’s a person, with his own life, and if Akira can’t fit into that- </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu has friends, and lots of them. He brings noise into Akira’s life, and he likes that, but if this were to go further, those friends would have to know, and the noise would increase, it sounds like such a pain. On Akira’s side of things, he’d have to say something to his family – a little awkward for a long time, if past experiences tell him anything – and he has to tell Kindaichi. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He really, really doesn’t want to do that. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Does he risk losing Shirabu over the fear about Kindaichi? Kindaichi had never seemed too opposed to being... alternative, just confused, and he’d grown to not care about it. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>What is he so scared of? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Kindaichi finding out that he was the subject of it. Losing him as a result. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira can’t deal with change. Stasis is safe, it doesn’t frighten him, he doesn’t have to consider the future impact, a future with a fish tank is safe safe safe, Shirabu isn’t safe at all, but- </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>What does he want? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’s taken too long to reply. Shirabu steps back, returns to his cold mug of tea, looks at it with disgust, although that might be the situation. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira. He’s always scared. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"I can’t date someone who's still in the closet again." Shirabu states bitterly. Akira understands that, but he just can’t move, feels frozen. "You have the summer to decide what you want. I'll come visit, though. If you want." He says offhandedly, and Akira feels somewhat icy. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He has the summer to contemplate whether he wants to capitalise on this? A huge change to his life, telling everyone everything he’s kept hidden, and teeter on the edge of uncertainty? He should just say no. He should just leave it at this. Should just affirm that they are friends and- </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>"Yeah." Shirabu slides his eyes over to him, eyebrow raised. "Visit if you can. And I'll think about it." </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Part of him is screaming to reject it all. That part of him doesn't want to get hurt, can't be bothered with the hassle. Just wants to go through life without awkward conversations. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>But he thinks it's probably going to happen again. That Shirabu has happened meant Kindaichi wasn't a one off. That Kindaichi happened means that Shirabu isn't a mistake. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Maybe it's just something he does, and he's going to have to deal with it. If it's not Shirabu, it might be someone else, someone worse, someone desperate to match, and Akira's biggest fear, he thinks, is going through life totally alone just because of his blank skin. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He's already halfway there to try and protect himself for the eventuality. Maybe it's worth just that bit more effort? Shirabu doesn't seem opposed. Seems oddly open to the prospect, and all he's asking is that Akira finally be honest with himself and decide what he really wants. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He thinks he knows, but he's scared. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Running away holds less appeal than it usually would. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I promise I’ll answer.” He states firmly. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu smiles, bittersweet, and Akira hates that he’s put it there, but he can’t answer yet. Answers aren’t just words, anyway. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Answers mean actions, and he can do nothing from his university kitchen flat. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He might just have to say things in a language other people understand, in order to say it in his own language to Shirabu, and mean it. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The thought is terrifying.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira sits on the train and he frets. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>This is not new. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’d packed up the essential things, and fretted. He’d lugged his bag to campus and fretted while doing that, too. He’d fretted on the bus, and in the train station. If he had a nervous tic, it would definitely be showing, and he’s glad he doesn’t chew his nails, untouched to tap irritatingly on the cheap train table. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Every passing second brings him closer to the event horizon, having to make decisions that’ll change things. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It’s Kindaichi that’s his main sticking point. His family – he doesn’t really want to say anything to them, but they won’t respond badly, hopefully. Tomo’s coming out told him that, and he’s very grateful that she went first, paving a path that he can merely tiptoe down after. Toda knows, Matsuka put two and two together and started this whole mess in the first place. Kawasaki- </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Kawasaki, he managed to speak to. Kawasaki is the first person that he actually told, in understandable words. Kawasaki, who he’s become pretty fond of; Kawasaki who he now knows is in a queerplatonic relationship with Toda. Kawasaki who joked quietly that even after a whole night practicing on Rock Band, Akira won’t be able to beat her. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Kawasaki treated it like a non-event, like he’d told her that they were out of milk and they needed to get some. Exactly, now he thinks about it, how he wants it to be treated. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Kindaichi is the most likely to react, he thinks. Kindaichi might not even understand it as a thing not to tell other people without permission, but mainly, he might just work out why Akira had been just a bit weird with him for a few years there. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>There is a huge difference between being okay with gay people in general, and being okay with someone of the same gender having feelings for you. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira puts his head against the window and stares out into the distance, pink blurs of cherry blossoms going past. Soon they’ll die back and fall to the ground and get crushed and decay into nothing but food for the plants. Why couldn’t his feelings just have done the same? All of this would be so much easier if he didn’t have to translate for everyone. Words have never been his strong point. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Are all these words worth it for Shirabu? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He gets to the station before he can answer himself. Probably, he’s just running away again, the resolve he had in the kitchen a few days ago dissolving into something far less sure.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He attempts to mope in his room, but his step-mum drags him out to help with chores. He’s only a little miffed – there’s only so much time on his own he can fill without coming back to the questions he keeps asking himself. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>She’s teaching him to cook, which he actually quite likes. He’ll always go for unfussy dishes, but knowing how to make them taste better is good. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The traitorous part of him imagines him making them for Shirabu in the future. Shirabu eating them and complimenting him on them, their legs tangling under the table before they retire to the lounge and curl up-</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Oh god. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He distracts himself with focusing on chopping onions, then asking her if it’s alright if Shirabu comes around. She says yes, provided she knows when so they can get the house cleaned and ready. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He tells Shirabu, whose response is a little muted. Akira winces, certain that that’s his fault – the number of texts has dwindled, which isn’t too unusual on the first few days of the holiday with Shirabu usually busy catching up with friends and such, but his tone is more dour too. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It makes Akira frown, and decide one thing – to set up a meeting with Toé. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>She’s the most likely to dispense sense to him, who he trusts with this. Of course, getting her somewhere without Kindaichi might be a bit of an issue, but she’s pretty reasonable. She can usually read between the lines, or even if not, he could get Mariru on side to distract Kindaichi with a big loud action film. Honestly, that sounds like a solid plan, so he texts Mariru too, who is only too happy as long as they meet back up afterwards. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Toé doesn’t look at her phone as much as most people, so he’s still waiting for a response a few hours later. Still waiting when his phone rings, and he picks it up without a glance assuming it’s Toé, since she’s more likely to talk on the phone than text. She’s always stated that going back and forth with plans via text is just too annoying. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>Kunimi.</i>” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>But that isn’t Toé. It’s Shirabu. Akira blanks, his character getting beaten up in front of him as he scrabbles for mental purchase. He wasn’t expecting this. A rejection? Has Shirabu changed his mind? Maybe he’s decided it’s not worth it. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>Kunimi, are you there?</i>”<br/>
“Uh, yes. Hi,” he stutters, watching the character die and the game over screen popping up. Does he want to continue? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>I- I just wanted to take something back,</i>” Shirabu starts, and Akira feels his heart grow cold. “<i>Don’t- don’t force yourself to come out, okay?</i>” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Huh? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu clicks his teeth over the phone line. “<i>I just want you to consider this seriously. I don’t want to be creeping around again, so careful of what I do and say, like with Te- I don’t want someone acting like they can’t be proud of being with me. I can keep it quiet, if you’re not ready yet, but- not forever. I’m not going to hide in the shadows for you forever. If it’s not okay to come out at home, then at least at university,</i>”  he murmurs, uneasy. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>And yeah, Akira could accept that. Keeping it at university is probably the least of his troubles, considering his family don’t visit too much, just a little too far out the way for regular visits. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>But people are going to ask if they’re matched. Or rather, they’re going to assume that they are, and sneer when Akira has to tell them they’re not, and they’re cast him aside to give Shirabu advice to stick to his soulmates, and- </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i><i>What is Kawanishi to you?</i> </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He still doesn’t know. What if- what if he goes through all this bother, this pain, and Kawanishi returns to the picture? What if Shirabu decides that the soulmarks are more important, after all? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The game over screen glows in his vision. The words won’t come out of his mouth. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>Just think about it, alright? I have to go, now, Kunimi…</i>” Shirabu is saying. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Come over next weekend.” He barely realises he’s saying it. “Come over and we’ll sort this out.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>There is a long pause, Akira only knowing the line is still active from the background noises. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>Okay, then. It’s a promise, Kunimi.</i>” The line drops off, and he’s left with the dull tone of the phone, the game over screen, and the realisation that he’s given himself a deadline. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i><i>Just what has he done</i>.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Toé finds him curled up in the corner of the café with the booths. The cake is okay, the coffee is passable, and it’s hard to get tea too wrong, but he’s picked it because it’s quiet. She gives him a curious look as she sits down. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Alright, so you request a meeting, one of your kouhai mysteriously invites Yuu out to the cinema and you’ve only just got back from uni. Why do I think something happened to you? And why do I get the feeling you asked that kouhai to take Yuu out the picture?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Damn, she’s sharp at times. Or Mariru was just running his mouth. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira is panicking already. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Let me get you something. Tea? Cake?” he hurriedly says, standing up as she sits down. She squints at him.<br/>
“And now you’re being too nice to me. Cappuccino and, uh…” she glances along the counter, checking the selection. “Fruit loaf.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He bustles to get them; the downside of a quiet café is it takes no time at all, and before he can buy himself much time, he’s sat back in front of her, Toé peering at him suspiciously. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“How’s university?” he tries. She gives him a deadpan stare.<br/>
“Fine, but you didn’t ask me out here for a catch-up,” she says, at which Akira winces. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. “Is this about the soulmark thing again?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira sighs with his whole body, deflating until he’s hunched over his caramel apple tart, staring at it as though it holds the answers to all the problems in the universe.<br/>
“If someone has marks, why would they go for someone who’s not matched to them?” he murmurs, mostly to himself. He can almost hear her roll her eyes.<br/>
“Because soulmarks can be anything, and they’re certainly not everything? I told you about my mom, didn’t I?” Akira nods glumly. “Soulmates can be platonic, romantic, or whatever. It’s a link between souls, not the only link you’ll ever have with anyone else, idiot.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“But say… someone has a link to someone else. But you don’t know anything about that bond. Wouldn’t that worry you?” He peers up at her from under his fringe. She thinks about it, taking a sip of her drink before she answers.<br/>
“I guess, but you’d have to ask them, really. You’ve got to trust them the same way you’d trust anyone else not to betray you,” she muses, leaning back in her chair and eyeing him. “This… isn’t hypothetical at all, is it.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“It’s- It’s Shirabu. I’m… not straight.” he whispers, and to give his hands something to do, he grabs a sugar cube, delicately unwrapping it and holding it at the surface of his tea, watching the liquid get sucked up into it until he feels the heat on his fingers just before it crumbles into the tea.<br/>
“Oh, okay.” Toé says, and then, “I see.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira can hear the cogs whirring towards an inevitable conclusion, and stirs his tea with quivering hands, waiting. She’s not stupid, she’s going to get there and this is what he’s always dreaded.<br/>
“Does this mean you liked-”<br/>
“Please don’t tell him.”<br/>
“I wasn’t going to, I just, it makes more sense now. You really didn’t like me at the start- Do you still-?”<br/>
Akira scowls. “No, it’s in the past. You two work better than we ever would have. Besides, you’re soulmates.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>She smiles to herself, glancing aside and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I mean, thanks. But I told you that wasn’t anything to do with it,” she says.<br/>
“It got you together.” She glances at him, eyebrow raised. “The soulmark thing.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Hmm, well, not completely. We’d been talking for a bit before he noticed we matched, you know.”<br/>
“You had?” Akira hasn’t heard this. Maybe he’d zoned out a little too much when Kindaichi was discussing it in his lovelorn way that he had done back then. It’d hurt a little too much to listen to, if Akira’s honest. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Toé nods. “I dunno if you noticed, but maybe he always offered to put certain things back in the store at certain times?” Now she mentions it, actually… “We bumped into each other there. It wasn’t like, love at first sight or anything, but it piqued my interest, and then he noticed we matched, and well. I tested it out, but it worked.” Suddenly, she shakes her head. “This isn’t about me and Yuutarou, though. Why don’t you just ask Shirabu about his soulmarks?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira grimaces, forgoing answering by chomping into his tart and chewing it slowly. The taste isn’t quite as good as it could be. Toé huffs loudly.<br/>
“If you want this thing, you’ve gotta make an effort!”<br/>
“What if he… doesn’t make the effort back?” Akira mumbles, wringing his hands together.<br/>
“Then fight for it! Fight for it, Akira, if you really want it. If you never try, you’ll never get hurt, but you’ll never be happy either. Isn’t it worth a little trouble?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It is, but that doesn’t make it less scary. Doesn’t make it less intimidating, and doesn’t make any of his problems with being unmarked go away. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I think you’re focusing a bit too much on this soulmate thing,” Toé announces. Akira scowls at her.<br/>
“In what way? In the same way everyone else does? In the same way people’ll get rejected if they don’t match?” he hisses, and stabs a fork into his tart. “Maybe if the world stopped being so focused on it, I could. As it is, it’s <i>always</i> going to be a problem because I can’t change it.”<br/>
“Oh my god. You are hopeless. Listen to me, I could tell even when reading those messages what, a year ago? This guy cares about you, you know! He got you to join the volleyball team, he’s stuck with you for ages now, you’re always talking about what he did to Yuu and you always sound, I dunno, softer when you talk about. I haven’t met him, but it feels like he’s not just pretending. Who’d do that for so long?” She points at him viciously, eyes ablaze. “If you wanna match, get matching tattoos. No one else has to know. Nobody even knows if soulmarks mean anything or whether we’ve just made them mean something.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He blinks at her owlishly for a long moment, as she realises she’s gotten caught up and leans back into her seat, taking a sip of her drink to cover the faint flush on her cheeks. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>But- she’s right. In the midst of his worrying, maybe he has gotten too deep into this and not actually thought about it logically. Dropping his head, he snorts, cracking a smile.<br/>
“I knew it was going to worth it talking to you. Thanks, Toé,” he says, directing his smile at her. She huffs.<br/>
“Men. Always so obstinate, even when it benefits them not to be!” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>But she’s smiling too. He’s glad that Kindaichi met her, because she’s a levelling influence on him and Akira both. He’s glad he got over Kindaichi, because he wouldn’t have wanted to get between them, and as a bonus, he’s got her as great friend. Not that he’s going to say it to her, but he’s pretty sure she knows. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Come on, as payment, you gotta tell me about Shirabu. What’s he like?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira groans, but the noise in his mind has quieted down, and he’ll let her off for prying, this once.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>After Toé extricates plenty of information out of him and tells him that he better go after Shirabu because she wants to meet him, they leave the café, Toé grinning ear to ear. They meet back up with Kindaichi and Mariru; the former excitedly chatting about the movie and the latter sticking to Akira’s side, and remaining there after Kindaichi and Toé peel off. Mariru ends up staying around his for dinner before reluctantly sloping home, but he’s easy to get along with, so Akira’s not annoyed. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’s decided not to tell Kindaichi quite yet. He wants to see how things go with Shirabu first. Wants to be sure where he stands before telling Kindaichi – Kindaichi will react, that’s for sure, although he can’t really tell how. Akira doesn’t think it’ll be bad, but it’ll be a reaction, which he doesn’t want right now. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The days dwindle by, infrequent texts from Shirabu borne of seeing old school teammates, and possibly still being upset that Akira couldn’t just make a decision there and then. He’s going to be arriving on Friday though, which seeps ever closer. Part of him is excited, part of him is so nervous he can barely stand it. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>On Wednesday, he gets impatient. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He phones Shirabu’s number with one question in mind. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>Kunimi?</i>” crackles down the phone line; opening doors and then quiet. Akira’s leg starts bouncing. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Hi, Shirabu,” he starts cautiously, and practically sees Shirabu’s eyebrow rise. “Is now not a good time?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>No, it’s fine. Did you want something?</i>” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira takes a breath.<br/>
“What is Kawanishi to you?” he asks, finally, and hopes that Shirabu doesn’t think him stupid for asking.<br/>
“<i>You met him, though? He’s a teammate.</i>” Shirabu returns, sounding puzzled. Akira starts messing with the toggle on his hoodie, the repetitive motion easing his nerves.<br/>
“He’s one of your soulmates. You had two, right? Your sister and him,” he murmurs, then has another terrible thought. “That’s all, right?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu pauses for a second, then huffs.<br/>
“<i>First of all, yes, I only have the two. Second, are you actually asking me why I’m not madly in love with Kawanishi?</i>”</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira doesn’t really have any good come-back to that considering it is, in essence, what he’s been asking himself since he learned the existence of Kawanishi. It gets translated into a conflicted noise, and Shirabu sighs.<br/>
“<i>Have you actually been worrying about that?</i>” Shirabu remarks, unreadable down the phone. Akira shrugs, then recalls that Shirabu can’t actually see him.<br/>
“Not worrying. Thinking about,” he says, his gaze flitting so much it irritates him. He closes his eyes, although then it just feels like Shirabu is right there. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“<i>Okay then…</i>” he mutters, sounding unconvinced. “<i>Kawanishi is just a teammate, and a friend when he’s not being a pain. I’ve never liked him like that, and even if I did, he’s aro.</i>” Akira makes a questioning noise, to which Shirabu tuts, but thankfully explains, “<i>Aromantic, Kunimi. Doesn’t tend to get romantic attachments to people. He certainly doesn’t. Never had a romantic thought in his life. Someone told him they had a crush on him and he told them he didn’t understand. He is not, and has never been, anyone I wanted to get with like that. He’d rather have ten dogs on leashes at the same time than think about kissing anyone, no need to worry.</i>” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Okay. Thanks.” He says, mentally noting to look up that aromantic thing. Kawasaki had murmured something similar to him, so it’d be good to understand. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Knowing the Kawanishi thing isn’t a problem… It’s one thing less to worry about. Shirabu sounds so certain about it that there’s no room for doubt – perhaps he’d discounted it as an option or a problem because from his end, it really wasn’t anything to worry about.<br/>
“<i>Does that… help?</i>” echoes down the phone line, and Akira realises he’s gone silent.<br/>
“Yeah. Thanks,” he repeats, then hears his step-mum yelling up the stairs for him. “I’ve gotta go…”<br/>
“<i>Alright. See you on Friday,</i>” Shirabu murmurs. Akira clicks the phone off and goes downstairs; turns out it’s to help with the washing up. While he does it, he realises: two days. In two days, it’s all going to change, unless he gets too nervous to change it. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Courage, this once. If he says something now, it’ll get loud, but it’ll quieten down again, he hopes. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Maybe it’s just a matter of suffering through the noise.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira blames lack of sleep and a busy crowd for hugging Shirabu when he arrives. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>It’s not like it’s actually something he decided to do; Shirabu seems to stumble a bit, there’s a lot of people and Akira goes to catch his luggage that he’s lost hold of. It ends up as something of a hug; Akira only decides to not immediately move. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’s in public, and he’s hugging Shirabu. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>This should probably bother him more than it should; he is a little concerned that people might be looking, but he’s more relieved that Shirabu has actually come. Also, his presence reminds him that the last time he saw him in person they’d been kissing, and he kind of wants to do that again, so hugging is definitely a safer option. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’s pretty gone. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Kunimi?” Shirabu murmurs softly, some kind of tilt to his voice. It’s muffled though, from being pressed against his shoulder, so maybe he’s just imagining that. Akira wants to hold on. He lets go, pulling the suitcase back towards him to ensure it doesn’t fall. Shirabu is giving him a puzzled look when he glances back, then away, his cheeks warm. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Your luggage was falling,” Akira explains, then twists on the spot towards the exit. No one was at home to drive them, so it’s a half-hour walk across town. Shirabu hums. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Thankfully, it’s a wheeled case, and the pavements aren’t too rough – Shirabu doesn’t offer to take it back, following a half step behind. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Away from the train station, the pavements clear out to minimal traffic in the Friday afternoon. Shirabu remains quiet for a good while; Akira thinks about taking his hand, but then releasing it again if he saw someone would be too conspicuous. He flexes his fingers instead to keep them busy. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Did… you tell anyone?” A quiet voice sounds beside him, and he glances across. Shirabu is watching him, face unreadable. Akira goes to say no, but- actually, he has.<br/>
“Yeah,” he mutters, mouth dry. At least Shirabu has had the presence of thought to wait until there’s no one around.<br/>
“Wait, you did?” Shirabu actually sounds surprised. Akira scowls into the distance.<br/>
“Don’t sound <i>quite</i> so stunned, I’m not a total closet case,” he mutters. Yeah, it’s not exactly been in his life plan, but being with anyone wasn’t in his life plan. He’s warmed to the fact that he is attracted to men, but it’s not like that was the only thing holding him back. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu grabs his arm though, and stops him short. “You told someone?” It sounds so important to him. Akira releases the suitcase to shove his hands in his pockets.<br/>
“Only one person. Although technically…” Technically, Oikawa had guessed his feelings. Actually, he told Kawasaki, too. “Two people. That I told.” Shirabu stares at him for a solid minute. “Are… we done? Can we go now?” Akira shifts, embarrassment crawling up his back. Look, this is what happens when you tell people things. They react. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“My previous boyfriend wouldn’t tell anyone at all,” Shirabu murmurs, releasing Akira’s arm. “He wanted it all. The partner, but none of the problems. We couldn’t go out together, had to meet there. He’d pretend we were just friends if anyone asked. I was only allowed around when his flatmates were out. The state he got into if they came back while we were there…” Shirabu laughs bitterly to himself, holding his elbow and scowling at the ground. “He was a shithole, but it took me too long to realise he wasn’t going to change,” he says, going quiet for a moment. “That’s… part of why I changed course. I didn’t like it much, felt like I was just doing the doctor thing to be the golden child—like they even <i>cared</i> about that shit—but I didn’t want to see him at all. Wanting someone dead felt a bit vicious for a medical student.” He snorts, while Akira just stares, processing. So this is why it had been so important to him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Keeping everyone alive does seem like it’d be a priority,” Akira says, unable to think of anything else to say. Shirabu laughs, though a little sadly. Akira steels himself by taking a breath, then steps closer to put his arms gingerly around Shirabu. With their height difference, Shirabu’s nose fits right into the hollow above Akira’s collarbone, and he feels Shirabu’s intake of breath through his shirt. But he weaves his arms around Akira, so it must be okay. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Twice in one day, both in public. Akira must be losing his mind, but somehow, as he rests his chin on Shirabu’s head, it just seems to work. There’s barely anyone around anyway. Shirabu huffs into his chest.<br/>
“He was a fucking asshole.” Akira vaguely hears, and nods faintly. This close, he gets a gentle scent that must be Shirabu’s shampoo, and the irrational side of him would rather like to stay like this all day. After a moment, though: “You must have a fever or something, Kunimi.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Rude. He steps away, sniffing in distaste. Even when he tries to be nice…<br/>
“Well, better get going,” he says, and goes to turn around, grabbing the suitcase with one hand. Shirabu, however, catches his arm, and holds on until Akira peers at him.<br/>
“Um. Thanks, Kunimi,” he mumbles, refusing to look him in the eye. Apparently finished speaking, he releases Akira and walks ahead. Stunned, Akira watches him go, and then realises that Shirabu has no idea where he’s going when he stops at the next intersection, glancing either way. Snorting, Shirabu twists and scowls at him. “Shut up! You surprised me!” he snaps. Akira just rolls his eyes and walks forward.<br/>
“That makes two of us. Left,” he remarks, and takes the lead. He refuses to answer when Shirabu asks what the hell that means.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He lies awake later, thinking about the whole thing. How close he’s been to giving this all up, and for what? Fear? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He’s always so afraid. So stuck where he is. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Toé had wondered why he didn’t just go for it. <i>Fight for it, Akira, if you really want it</i>, she’d said to him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i><i>Decide what you want, and fight for it</i>, Shirabu had told him, after the match that Akira had ruined, that had knocked them out of the tournament. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He really hadn’t been talking about volleyball, at all. Well, maybe a little. But maybe it had been one of those hints Shirabu had said he’d left. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Maybe Akira needs to fight more. If he doesn’t want to be alone. Shirabu isn’t perfect, but he’s close enough, and so much better than the thought of returning to an empty apartment every day, saying welcome home to his fish. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Would Akira put his current life on the line, his current comfort in stasis, to let Shirabu into his future? Does he want it enough? </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>As he lies there, staring at the ceiling in the dark, the answer finally feels so obvious to him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Yes. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Of course he does. He’s wanted this for months, fretting and worrying and denying himself the chance, trying and failing to find a level ground, and maybe it’s okay to throw himself into uncertainty this once, because there’s a chance that he’ll come out the other side with something so much better than a level, and he won’t be <i>alone</i>. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Throwing the covers off himself, he stands up. Marches to the door, and slides it open; strolls down the hall to the guest room, knocks on that quietly. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>There is a sleepy questioning groan from inside. Akira admits himself into the room, and Shirabu blearily stares up at him from the floor. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Aki-raaa?” He yawns, rubbing his eyes. Akira smiles, and kneels down next to him. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I’ve decided.” He announces quietly. The crickets outside have gone quiet, no sound except the breeze, and Shirabu blinks at him a few times. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Decided?” Shirabu murmurs. He’s fighting sleep, and Akira wonders if he’ll even remember this. He thinks he will. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Yeah. I’ve decided, Shi-” he pauses, considering. “K-Kenjirou?” He tries out, the syllables weird on his tongue, and he almost wants to put them back. Almost. He’ll grow into it, if he’s given the chance. “I’ll show you in the morning. Good night.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Impulsively, Akira leans down and presses his lips just briefly to Shirabu’s forehead. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Eyes widen at him, but he just smiles faintly, and retreats; deciding he won’t be able to sleep, and goes for a run in the blissful chill of a summer night. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>All change in the morning. Akira is looking forward to it, for once, despite the nerves.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira keeps getting looks across the table, as someone clearly recalls his odd behaviour. Akira clenches his hands into fists, and finds the courage to speak. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“I’m gay.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>There is a beat of silence, and Shirabu stares at him, his face going red, and Akira feels so, so nervous; his dad and step-mum turn to look at him, and his two sisters choke on their food. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>A little awkward for a long time. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira thinks he can cope if it’s that. As long as it is that. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Chaos takes over as everyone tries to speak at once, tries to swallow food, stop choking and actually understand what he’s said. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Akira?” his step-mum says. “I’m afraid I don’t really understand?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Me neither…” murmurs his dad.<br/>
“Me three!” His sisters say in canon. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira stops his hands shaking by holding them so tightly, his nails start to bite into his palms.<br/>
“I’m just telling you,” He starts, his voice a fraction less shaky than he feels, and his eyes on the table the entire time. He doesn’t waver in that, at least. “Because it seems to be important to everyone that they should know.” He pauses for a moment. Out the corner of his eye, he sees Shirabu opening his mouth then shutting it again, apparently utterly speechless. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira returns to eating the best he can, hand shaking ridiculously, he knows they can all see it, he can barely pick up any rice with his chopsticks, and he wills them to be still, for his heart to stop racing in the silence he’s left behind. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He doesn’t regret it. But he’s so scared, and it’s amplified in the silence. Before he knows, his vision is wavering, and he bites his lip, grips the chopsticks so hard he hears them creak. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Awww, little bro can join the pride club!” Tomo squeals, and throws her arms around him. He gets an unfortunate faceful of her breasts, but at least it hides his face for now. He wants to vanish, wants it all to be over already, wants someone else to just <i>say something</i>. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Tomo, stop suffocating your brother,” Akira vaguely hears his dad say, and although she groans, she does release him. When he gets his view of the world back, they’re all looking at him. His dad clears his throat awkwardly. “Akira, this is- unexpected,” he starts haltingly, glancing over at Shirabu, then back again. Akira doesn’t dare even look at Shirabu. “But I think you know my view on this.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The world holds its breath. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“As long as you’re happy, I don’t mind who you are seeing. Thank you for telling us,” he finishes, and the pressure goes out of the air, the tension out of his shoulders. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>How can it feel so good to hear that? To hear that acceptance? His eyes start to burn, Tomo flings an arm around him, grinning.<br/>
“Guess I’m holdin’ the fort on grandkids, huh!” Sakaki jokes, and the rest of them snort. They’ve always known that, Akira declaring that children were snot-ridden germ convectors (and that he’s far too lazy to deal with them) and Tomo never expressing much interest either. Sakaki leans over to punch him in the arm jovially. “So, anyone special?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Damn Akira’s reflexes. His eyes flit over to Shirabu, involuntary. Shirabu is staring at him, flabbergasted. Sakaki and his step-mum both catch it, although Tomo and his dad don’t seem to see it, and they glance at Shirabu, then each other. Damn it. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Oh, have you…?” his step-mum trails off, gesturing vaguely at her upper arm. It’s where her soulmark to his dad is, but Shirabu frowns, confused.<br/>
“He knows,” Akira mutters, and stands up. They fall silent again. “I’m- gonna go walk.” They nod, knowing that he needs his space. They’ll show him they care later, Sakaki sauntering into his room and regaling him with the funny stories she has from nursing, Tomo’ll probably pretend that he said girls were repulsive and start teasing him about whether having sisters put him off for life. His dad will nod at him in the mornings like always, his step-mum will make him come down to help in the kitchen. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>That’s all he needs. He doesn’t need the words, he needs the actions of acceptance. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Although when he gets to the front door, he realises he doesn’t want to go where people might recognise him, and not realise that his life has slanted just slightly. He can’t deal with anyone right now. He heads instead to the back door, to their tiny little backgarden his dad likes to maintain, picking the weeds and calling Akira to help him in peaceful silence every summer. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He sits himself down on the step, stretching his feet out onto the moss, cool under his feet. It’s grounding, hearing the birds, the insects, the general noise of the town beyond their walls. The warm breeze that curls around the space, the sun creeping around. He shuts his eyes and takes in the sensations, abandoning all thought for a moment, breathing deeply in, then out again, until his heart rate has calmed down some. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He doesn’t have to tell everyone just yet. Maybe it’s better out the way, before they ask about girlfriends. Probably his grandma will keep asking, but again, Tomo’s inability to keep quiet means that they’ve already been subjected to the idea. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Kindaichi can wait a bit. He doesn’t have to tell everyone right now. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>The door rattles behind him and slides open; Akira holds his breath. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“You didn’t have to do that for me.” Shirabu’s voice, quiet.<br/>
“I didn’t do it for you specifically,” Akira mutters. Shirabu has been the inciting factor, but he thinks he’s always known. Known that he’d tell them at some point.<br/>
“That’s good. I think.” There is some shuffling, and Shirabu sits down next to him. They’re almost touching. Not quite, but almost. There’s one final question in that gap, Akira thinks. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Shirabu,” he starts, hands clenching against the deck. In his peripheral vision, he sees Shirabu turn to him, but he keeps staring out into the garden. “Would you go out with me?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>His blood rushes in his ears, and that’s all he hears for a moment. Then: Shirabu laughs, free and easy. Akira glances towards him; he’s grinning, and Akira’s heart can rest just a little bit easier.<br/>
“I thought you’d never ask, Kunimi,” he says, glee in his voice. He leans into Akira, leaning their shoulders together, relief emanating from that contact. “Definitely. I’ll date you, blank canvas and all.” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Akira snorts, high on relief.<br/>
“Y’know, the friend I told suggested we could get matching tattoos ‘if it bothered me so much’,” he remarks. Shirabu gently takes his hand from where it’s resting on the deck and entwines their fingers, and shuffles closer again.<br/>
“We don’t need that, but we can at some point, if you want.” Shirabu’s hand feels like it fits in his. Akira is kind of caught up on that feeling. He’d never really allowed himself to daydream, but it’s far better than in his imagination, or his dreams. “I didn’t think you were going to pursue it, you know. I thought you’d think it wasn’t worth the effort. I’m very glad you decided it was,” Shirabu murmurs, squeezing his hand. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i></i>
        <i>“I decided you were a bit better than a fish tank,” Akira says, and rests his head on Shirabu’s, even if it’s a little uncomfortable. He’s too happy to care much right now.</i><br/>
“I hope so,” Shirabu intones in a grumpy voice. “I hope I’m a lot better than a fish tank.”<br/>
“We’ll see.” Shirabu is probably shooting him a petulant look. Akira doesn’t check.<br/>
“I’m gonna make you go on a 10km run just for that,” Shirabu grumbles, although he doesn’t move, and just holds Akira’s hand tighter.<br/>
“Yeah, yeah, later. Right now, can we just… stay here. Just for a bit.” </i>
      </i>
    
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Shirabu sighs, not sounding annoyed in the slightest when he acquiesces. Right now, it’s all Akira needs.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed it! This ended up way longer than it was meant to, and I'm pretty sure I like the last two thirds better than the first third, but hey. This has also been illustrated by the lovely Erel!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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